Ordinary Experiences

Emily Gordon

I was a body with a body, 

a bare back in a round dress,

a circle from the air, 

if you were above me, 

but no one was above me, 

only right beside me,

far as a telephone line,

no tin cans to connect me

to sense or fortune,

the money kind or luck.

My stomach had paint on it,

my pubic hair a triangle.

I wrote your name on your back,

we sang an old duet, 

I taught you the words, 

we didn’t need to drink, 

we just loved to sleep, 

to black out the windows, 

the world was small enough

to keep us, it got bigger, 

that was the trouble.

We listened to songs,

I forgot all the words

and the windows let in

all the light, the bad sun

that burned through the skin,

the membrane that held us,

and ordinary experiences

became extraordinary, 

impossible, trackless,

scentless, not a trace

to find you by.