I Know You.

(I do)

I know the birthmark on your neck and 
the mole tucked beneath your shoulder
like a star hiding at the edge
of all-space

I know how you pretend 
to be an apostle 
too sacred to fantasize
too sacred to want 

I know all about That One Time
which really happened twice

I know all about That One Boy
which really became the only

I know you were born 
prematurely 
and it thus became a habit
to surge into things
you weren't yet made for,
half-lunged and unarmed

I know that you never beg

I know your pride
becomes your fortress
and you rule a kingdom
with no kinsmen

I know your hands 
are still stained 
ash-red
from when you held 
the earth apart
carved it open 
like a butcher
and reached into its 
molten core,
digging out a home.