since the violation
my nightmares have all
included the threat
or the reality
of immobility
and I am there,
body pooling around me,
held down, useless.

wake: now I am here,
next to a plenitude
of gentleness,
unafraid. the humidity
of shared breath,
the safety of control:
call me a jar
of consent.

you draw nazca lines
at the entrance
to a lush forest 
shaped like hummingbird,
or shifting coccoon—you
remove the ruddy
pebbled blush
to reveal what’s under.

a religious act.
give those lines
a purpose. give them
clarity without hesitation.
we should try,
you said,
everything, just to see
what you like best.

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