You once said to me, that I'm the kind of person
who sticks around in someone's throat. I thought
you meant like how you can still taste coffee
hours after you drink it or how it feels watching
a new horse stand for the first time.
I wanted to know why you always swallowed
before looking me in the eye. There's a type of
deep breath a person takes before they are
able to stare at the ocean, and I can feel your
chest swell on the nights you come over from
the beach and I find sand for days.
You meant like in the way the sun, heavy weight,
is an undoing burn. I get stuck in your throat and
you drink sea water looking for the moan I make
when you come up behind me in the kitchen as
I roll out dough for pastelitos and your mouth
finds my neck.