Owned By Something

“I would live for centuries”
he tells me,
“could continue seeing the world this way—
unyielding yet very beautiful still
with iridescent flaws,
garden gloves unkempt”.

My hand covers his slightly,
wayward-owning transcendence—
present as it is and isn't,
hot tea and floral candies showcase in a modern serving dish;

he feeds me. I fondle this vintage tea cup
holding it ever so daintily as our bodies
collide, ivy-twined when he looks into my eyes
tells me “because you would too”.