"I have no idea what to call thisthing that you do to me–thisupside-down tremor of an..."

“I have no idea what to call this

thing that you do to me–this

upside-down tremor of an almost-earthquake

at the pit of my stomach.

I don’t know what to call it,

because fear and happiness are both

equally as earth-shattering in my body

and I don’t know which category

you belong to.

Science made a mistake when it didn’t

mark your mouth as a point

on the Richter Scale.

And now, I am all tremble and chaos

holding my breath for you.

All of these thousand mile aftershocks

knocking words off my bookcase and

words off my tongue. Us,

just two girls with summer wrapped

around our throats. No–

you as the epicenter,

you as ground zero,

you as all the ways I didn’t know

I could be tied into knots–no,

tied into bows.

You

as poet and tequila and

the early hours of the morning where

we are least afraid to talk to each other.

Me, self-conscious and wanton,

deleting all the dirty pictures I want

to send to you,

deleting all the soft confessions I want

to share with you,

coveting the parts of my chest

I do not know if I am ready

to give to you, yet.

What I’m saying is,

it kills me that we keep on writing

about each other, but still

have no idea

how to talk about it.”

- A RESPONSE POEM by Ashe Vernon