(National Poetry Month HitRECord challenge)
Love
Does not reside
in the heart
like a box
that only opens
once
per
beat.
Oh, no, it is in
the marrow of my
leg bones,
the hinge of my knees,
the way both tremble
and shudder
when you exhale.
It is in the sinew,
the soft belly under my navel,
my fingertips and calluses,
in each strand of muscle
that stretches,
and pulls
Us together.
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