The day after we make love each movement amplifies, ricochets through me.
My right femur might break free from hip. My left shoulder muscle catches scapula.
Pectorals smolder red-orange from the fire in my abdomen. My ankle grinds itself to fine white dust

But the kink in my
wrist reminds me of
fumbling at your belt. 
The cramp in my jaw
of our frantic kisses.
Tension
in my neck, your dark
nipple erect
and delicious. The burning
in my hip sockets your
tongue’s pelvic
journey. My throat
sore from inhaling our
heat. The pang in my
ear where you
whispered
I love you.

And I am grateful for the glyphs sickness carves
on my spine, for the story pain paints
on my body’s cavern walls, for this body
holding you the day after.
For this
body
refusing
to forget.