A poem

We must be rusting inside

I didn’t realize it when I could feel it in my mouth, thinking of you
Not when I could feel it in our mouths while we kissed

I couldn’t tell when something about our hands was missing
The fingers, the thumbs, the lines, the soft-hard skin, the yellow-pink nails
They were all there

I didn’t taste it when we moved together
Too well practiced
up and down, close eyes now
hold tight, let go, lie on me

When we shared our anger, I couldn’t have imagined it
The injustice of privilege we shared
The world had to change; we had to give it a chance

And then one night amidst the cacophony of blaring loudspeakers
Trying to keep ground on wet grass, you held on to me
I just smiled
And suddenly I knew

We must be rusting inside.