T. T.

Yesterday,
I could say a word more than I needed,
a word more and, perhaps, a letter,
a vowel stretched by cords between my lips,
a sign, a signal, a frown at times to put a mirror
in your face.

The night has passed and now
I say no words.
No vowels round my lips
nor do frowns nor sneers curl my brows
in much desired ways.
I now lie open on your table.
My guts went out, my stomach turned,
my head keeps swinging in a thousand swings,
my hands fight desperate to find a knife
to cut myself loose.

And you… you lie beside me and stare up,
your eyes wide open, your teeth gritted hard.
You smile a smile of a billion words and
the corners of my mouth are drawn up.
You shake in compulsive laughter and my chest
starts jumping, as if a woodpecker was carving there
a question mark I just can’t understand.

I feel my chest with trembling fingers.
My heart beats in its place – I feel relieved –
and next to it there is another,
beating to the pace of my own, pausing just enough
to let me wonder.

My blood runs twice as fast – and so does yours.
I breathe the breath of two, I feel so much more.
I see a sight no human’s ever seen.
My fears go naked and ashamed for real.
I am the double of one man and more.
I know what I should know and less
from what I should forget or pass.

I’m nothing more than just another you,
the spitting image of my real self,
I feel our veins curled up in infinite wires,
stretching to bond us in one blood,
a happier experiment of a younger Mengele,
a new me, adapted to the new you.

I smile and the corners of your lips
go up.