Conduction

my tendons and sinew are coiled wire,
your violin strings, and from here inside me
i know only that they exist, like our bones,
farmhouse plumbing, or swirl toothpaste

you press against my arm with fingertips,
cradling it like a loved instrument
and i watch your face, so maybe i can
understand how i feel

i wonder if i’m soft like a rubber ball
or if you can feel my bumps, the knots
and tubes holding me together below my skin,
and if i’m good for vibrato,
as you play me for your invisible conductor

on the weekend i use it to cook, clean
the floor, scratch at paper, bug bites,
throw flat rocks at the water and water at
myself, to push the week off

the human mess ambles through but
with this cover you love me anyway, eyes shut,
mouthing the words to your favorite songs
as we coast along on the train in the dark