There is a feeling
like swimming up
out of a dark dream:
your old lovers; standing naked
in the produce aisle; unprepared
for an algebra test.
You slam awake, tethered
to a warm body breathing
and your arm asleep and tingling.
You want to take it back,
reclaim your captive limb
from under all the extra bones and hair,
those vital organs and skeins of skin
– so much blood –
that isn’t yours. But you don’t.
You leave it.
Calm your frenzied breathing, endure
the tingling. Will it into the unused spaces
of your body, ballast
that threatens to drag you down,
but by some magic floats
easily, bobbing along
on the unseen currents
of that steady breathing beside you.