complex equations
considering the history
of my sex
which drips from the yarn
i knit together
and all those times
in which we were considered equal
in our own right,
i find myself longing
for the spinning feeling
of us
pressed silently, sleepily
under quilts.
without our idealized version
of history
it would be only i under the quilt
and you
wondering if i’d ever give it back.