we are skeletal
lovers, curled
like spindles

wrapped around each
other, a wheel

our skin so bruised
from hitting into
each other, trying
to merge

skin and bones
and skin
and bones

converge

we make stars of
interlocking limbs,
arms stretched out

to pull ourselves
in

the light below
or behind us
now

centred on
floor or air
or sky, just
space where
we are suspended
spinning, circling,

spines curved,
legs pointed,
broken and balletic
like a heart