grindr

i wonder how the spider follows a line without language
the newborn silk of its web nude of dust
you crouched on the wooden slats of the balcony,
i still as a window in the chair / identical scars 
on our wrists--i mean dug into the bony place beneath the thumb
since we wanted spots to pick for boredom

from your voice i think we share a confusion
this ache to pull strands of ourselves
from the bodies of others / moving together
nude lines sleek and hardly touched
we play a game of normal animals
and later i imitate you in sleep, back flat
the neatness of a foot between us