Diecinueve

With an east wind, you made a bed,
blowing on it to warm it up.
and with the murmur of your watery voice
you sang lullabies without lyrics.
and we slept so close
that we woke up as conjoined twins.
and we measured time in heartbeats.
and on your fingers, I played my songs,
fingers like celesta keys.
and your pulse drummed on my temples and wrists
like tiny centipede legs.
and we shared lips and teeth and hiccups,
and from the alphabet, the odd ones.
and on your fingers, I played my songs,
fingers like celesta keys.