"who is the holder? who is held?
who am i and who is he?"

on the last day of march, my body resisted the shape of love. we fought on the floor till my wrists chafed and the tears came fat down my cheeks. i hurt myself blindly and felt hands sharp around mine. he held me down until i stopped protesting. i stared at the ceiling. he held me to his chest. i squinted in the yellow buzz of the hot day. i fell asleep and my body awoke in an imitation of tenderness.

rama lama lama ke ding a de dinga a dong