Aquarius, the Water-Bearer, Imagines What It’s Like to Love, Be Held
by Tyler Raso
I never tire of this carrying.
This armful of splash. I know I’m not
important. A nightstand could do
what I do, its shoulders low enough
to find in the dark. Tell me a secret.
I’ll hold it against my ear. I’ll hold it
still enough to recognize, still enough
to find in the dark. Stillness is all
I’m good for, knees tight as pages, hands crown-shaped
beneath the water I bear. Sometimes, I like to picture myself naked as a branch
in the river, not still,
but held, the water guessing my shape
with its shapes. Think about it: all the shapes your body has
been. Is there one you loved? Your liquid edges indistinguishable
from mine like a blanket in the dark. I’m not sure that’s possible, but think about it. My only hands
rippling with yours. Our chest swelling with the reflection of the unfolding leaves.
This armful of splash. I know I’m not
important. A nightstand could do
what I do, its shoulders low enough
to find in the dark. Tell me a secret.
I’ll hold it against my ear. I’ll hold it
still enough to recognize, still enough
to find in the dark. Stillness is all
I’m good for, knees tight as pages, hands crown-shaped
beneath the water I bear. Sometimes, I like to picture myself naked as a branch
in the river, not still,
but held, the water guessing my shape
with its shapes. Think about it: all the shapes your body has
been. Is there one you loved? Your liquid edges indistinguishable
from mine like a blanket in the dark. I’m not sure that’s possible, but think about it. My only hands
rippling with yours. Our chest swelling with the reflection of the unfolding leaves.
Tyler Raso (they/them) is a poet, teacher, and multimedia artist. Their work is featured or forthcoming in POETRY, Black Warrior Review, DIAGRAM, Salt Hill Journal, The Journal, and elsewhere. They currently write, teach, and study in Bloomington, IN, tweeting @spaghettiutopia