I mustn’t use my body as a dance move,
as a way for me to prove the voices
wrong; that we are rash choices,
that without the coupling we’re just skin.
You can’t deny the smile that comes
with cumming, there’s a silent thrum
shared, he loves me, but I knew this.
I’m just scared that without proof it’s
beyond my reach, something I can lose.
I cannot use my body as I choose,
as a way to just shut up and play the hits;
songs we make up with our jigsawed bliss,
a shared light widening until we’re thin,
unthinking, breathless, cramping, voiceless.
Today they say that I must change the noises,
the method. My body is a bleeding gum.
I feel your fearless tongue, our bodies’ scrum,
your viscous grin I could never disprove.
The Doctors Say
1 November 2018