Dismount

You ask if I am happy to see you

Well, is it me that asks or you?

I cocoon myself underneath you and plead

Yes, yes, I have missed you,

I am joyous.

You are not so sure.

Your mouth manoeuvres an upturning and

eyes glisten in a way that says 

Darling, I believe you.

But I am not so sure.

Perhaps I do miss the way 

I used to throw myself into the air 

with a fearless gravity.

The spinning and bending of body–

Flesh as suspension, the air as a

vacuum to move through.

Perhaps I miss the satisfaction of a twist and

Perfect landing–

the force with which my feet would touch

The floor.

But you were never consistent enough

for me. The way I trusted my body—

that was consistency.

until I didn’t,

Which is when I quit.

Words by Tatum Smith-Sperling, she/her