The Thing That Really Gets Me or I Should Have Known

That day, the second month,

it was bright out. We woke up together

that morning and stayed in bed all day. 

You still looked at me like you were afraid

I’d disappear, something whimsical,

you said— you make me feel whimsical.

The window was open, winter pouring 

itself over us like a flood, I slipped under

the blankets with you, pulled them over 

our heads. You, you pressed your nose against mine

to warm it and I whispered poetry against your skin

through my smile, so bright my eyes watered,

Ellen Bass, I remember. This was before 

you realized I was human. You sighed, 

breath against my lips, hand fisted in my hair,

told me you were falling in love with me. That’s

what you said: Oh girlie, you know I’m falling 

for you. And I tried— God, I tried— to push you away. 

Told you I was human, smile fading, Just wait I said 

Just wait until you realize I’m human.

AS ORIGINIALLY PUBLISHED IN SOLSTICE LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 1: VOL 1, NO 1.