translation

your words snaked around me,
over my belly and ribs and nipples,
up into my hair where they tangled
and then settled into my ear.
"translation: i love you."

in that moment, i hated you.
what's the point of loving me
if it's in a language i don't understand?
i don't speak subtlety, i never learned to converse in
gestures and glances and metaphors.
i couldn't read the exasperation in your sighs
that you now tell me meant i was blind
or deaf, or dumb, or maybe just stupid.

you kissed me on the lips
and stroked my cheek as you stood up to leave.
"translation: i love you."

and suddenly all the gestures became clear
as though i'd carved
my own rosetta stone