DAILYSOMETHING

Autumn

Wind. A wave of you through my clothed body.
You speak in syllables only. You don’t budge to my curses.
You carry cold when it’s cold, and heat when it’s hot,
and rarely and pleasantly the opposite.

You are unnatural, attractive. To lean on you is a
bitter, welcome thing. You rise in pillars and speak in tides.
Your tongue was foreign, unwelcome to me when I was poor.
But now when layers keep my body from you

A certain misery wells up and I unbutton my coat,
my sweater, my pants, and run to the fountains in public places,
to jar and jam through water, just so your cold
could enter the forgotten places in my flesh.