The Argonauts

by Maggie Nelson

You’ve punctured my solitude,

I feel I can give you everything without giving myself away, I whispered in your basement bed. If one does one’s solitude right, this is the prize.

I had booked the room for us online, in the hope that my booking of the room and our time in the room would make you love me forever.

Just don’t kill me, I said as you took off your leather belt, smiling.

I sent it with the aspiration that one day I might—that one day my jealousy might recede, and I would be able to behold the names and images of others inked onto your skin without disjunct or distaste.

“Get yourself out of whatever cage you find yourself in.”

The air was hot and lavender with a night storm coming in.

She was ruining the moment, and I loved her for it.

I didn’t have a clue what you were talking about, but I could see you burned for it. I wanted to be near that burning.

But to let the baby out, you have to be willing to go to pieces.