I want to be somewhere between inside
you and you,
feel myself when pressed silent
against our skin.
I’ll settle for this gowned
wrapping myself loosely around your
dangling limp off your cold
an afterthought of blood and cloth.
I can’t help my invasive desire,
wish to slip inside your chest and massage
your heart with my hands,
cut away the dead
tissue and the cancerous longing for
any experience beyond this bed,
this surgical table where we invade
each other for love and medicinal
your body the cause of all
my pains but also the source of my cure.