What can I say to you, darling,
that you haven’t heard me say before?
That you are an oyster
and I am a grain of sand
trapped in your fatty pink folds.
That for all the time I’ve spent with you
I’m rubbing you raw
right in the sweet spot.
We shouldn’t hold on to the myth
that you can change me
any more than I can change
a stranger’s water into wine.
What can I say to you, darling?
That you shouldn’t hold your breath
because nothing good can come
from that kind of cruelty,
because you always find a way to fight
on the right side of a catastrophe.
What can I say other than
the stories we’ve made up
about goldmines and oceans and heartache
have always been in our heads,
all we have to decide
is how to tell them.
© Michelle Ornat 2013