I am the river
and you are the bed.
do not be fooled you do not cushion my currents,
you are just jagged rocks pinching the nerve in my spine.
I tell the doctors and the vertebrae that I am all curves and cut veins from pressure,
the heavy weight of woman
sitting on my chest and pushing down on the spaces in my back.
Really I know,
at night you creep into my body
at night you creep into my side of the bed
you pull your knees up to your chest and dig your heels in stubbornly.
I dream and you dig because still,
I am the river
and you are the bed.
You are jagged rocks digging into me as I float on,
but the places you push in me make the spaces for the light to dance on me.
I am the river here too
and you are my bed,
and on the sharp edges of you
ever will I float
until the edges bend.
