If we pull together, there’s harmony.
If alone, I breathe in. Pull a deep draft of liquor.
After-supper lure to bother with window blinds—
a string is all that’s needed for privacy for lovers, but do
I have it in me? To couple. Touch what is known
for years, a fever whitened. Tame and blame.
Like making our bed, north and south,
feather comforter tight, east and west.
Damage is no mystery: hay to a combine.
To be useful, harm has to be done—gilds yellow to nourish.
Iron and nickel couldn’t help themselves.
Positive and negative in lodestone.
With no built-in compass, always in pairs,
I lose my way when you pull on me.