ONEONE

A community of two is commonly called a couple.

Not two

but

one

One-to-One

(ONEONE)

Frame a couple:

Witness the way their waists warp around,

each serpentine wall wrapping,

over knees nearly limb-locks

sealing such beautiful form.

A four-legged creature?

Then - bisect the beast!

Halve the horse,

Split the serval,

Rive the rabbit,

but all these you will find

decease while this four-legged illusion

lives on without its frame.

How do they appear as shared flesh, that to afflict one would be to maul the other as if they bled and breathed through a single system?

Not unity, Not unity

Opposition

Ask the Watcher: Be blind against these bodies and break the binding spell of symmetry of four legs, four arms, four feet, four eyes, two heads, two mouths, twenty fingers, twenty toes, twin round nostrils of the nose, inhaling, chest to chest, cheek to cheek, unspeaking, flayed open at the vertex of an unfolded mirror.

The Watcher must not watch.

Feel.

Filaments of our souls reveal truth by fibrous intentions rippling beneath skin.

One clings to oneself, but inevitably, the force no longer is enough -

All is me

in my excess

I dissolve completely

To the contrary

nothing to hold

All is me          

(Am I lonely?)                                                                            (Shall I oppress me?)   

Outlines begin to unravel, fraying contours of mind, configurations fall loose, three dimensions melt into two, and before we become the negative surface, a reflection of everything, we reach out for another’s enclosing arms

Mark the borders of our being! Contain us again! Save us from our indistinguishable design!

Forgive me, I

am lonely and call you stranger so you might plead to know me.

* * *

Know you?

It cannot be.

I’ve screamed at the horrific coherence of our DNA

My own definition sacrificed on your atonement’s altar,

absolving an uncomprehending self

Can I understand you?

Sympathy warms spaces obscure and scorches that which is too intimate.

Can I understand you?

Empathy springs from sad daydreams where I catch myself crying on the surface of your pooling tears.

Can I understand you?

Pity recoils from recognition: wincing upon my voice replayed, my image captured candid, my infantile follies retold.

Yet, I touch myself, desperate

as dull as

pressing one’s lips together to kiss

crushing a tear against one’s cheek

crossing and uncrossing one’s thighs

transferring heat on a winter’s day.

Can I understand you?

Then, to this anatomical illusion, I yield

Forgiveness is understanding

I understand.