It is more than ten years since
we sloughed off our memories with unwanted cells.
Now we come, like door-knockers in suits,
to collect again what remains.
No arguing with the grave
pull of prolapse between my legs,
the thickened sceptre of your waist –
calluses of the years between.
After seventeen years of stilled voices,
these uncanny bodies are ours.
Let’s undrawer the patterns of our youth.
strew them along the unmarked track
through the pinewoods,
dance the basement in a time before fear,
emerge, head back, to swallow the stars.
Despite the science, the body remembers
that gesture made once in love,
relays back to itself, anaphoric,
the grazing of bodies against bodies,
of bodies against walls.
Dissolving into the homeopathy of our stories,
will we recollect what we are,
might we find a cure
in the well