When I touched his hair his eyes were brown—
…………brown as in earth—earth as in landslides.

…………………….I always think disaster 
is the most probable outcome.

…………And I hear it’s wise 
…………………….to press your face on what you love,

to hold its hand if it has hands.
………….I hear he’s crafting

…………………….a study of my body—
study as in composition.

…………..I’m okay with hearing that.
…………………….I’m okay with rumors.

And I hear a woman
…………..is beautiful only 

……………………until she lets her body go—
go as in age—age as in time.

…………..I hear
…………………….his hands play beautiful piano—

beauty as in timeless—time 
…………..as in dying.

…………………….When I love someone I fear 
for them—fear as in dying 

…………..in an attic fire—
…………………….love as in falling 

…………..out a half-moon window,
hands-first.

 /  

Lynne Ellis (she/they) writes in pen. Her words appear in Poetry Northwest, Sugar House Review, The Shore, Barzakh, Full Mood, and elsewhere. They were awarded the Missouri Review’s 2021 Perkoff Prize for poems about the body. Find their pandemic broadside collaboration with Felicia Rice, “A Virus Held Us,” online at Moving Parts Press. She also self-publishes fridge poems on Instagram @stagehandpoet. Ellis is co-editor at Papeachu Press, supporting the voices of women and nonbinary creators.