(RE)Turning

I miss the warmth
of my mother's womb;

amniotic memories
are a muthafuca
when life has you drowning.

I wish someone would have
engraved:

LIFE PRESERVER NOT INCLUDED

into my skin while
I was being born

or

DON'T LET FEAR EAT YOUR FUTURE

or

LOVE SAVES & SLAUGHTERS.

I think my heart
enjoys being a lost
artifact buried in some
distant land under
immovable sands.

The present bludgeoning
bones and enticing me to
flirt with inanimate intimacy
like romancing zeros and ones
can calm ghost.

A.I. will never warm a mattress
like she did;

like we did.

I miss swimming inside of us;
I miss our vacations from the world;
I miss reading aloud together amidst
the silence of Sundays.

We stole time like we would never
get caught;

I'm doing year four of a life sentence.