tell me about the first time
you asked a lover to help into a straight-jacket—
tell me if you let them pull your hair
or if you writhed like a garbage bag of birds.
i want to know all your favorite
spots on the body
to feel pain—
i like the teeth & how they ring
like a ceiling of bells when they’re hit.
i like knuckles because they trick me
into believing there are walls possible
in me. you once slipped out
of a giant’s mouth without him knowing
but came back to do it again & again.
teach me captivity.
teach me spectacle.
i want to draw a crowd.
i want to hide keys in my throat
& hold my breath
so long underwater that
the onlooker will know
i am part octopus.
there are so many different kinds
of locks— each with a cave
you once lived in
feeding only off the sound of mouth wings
& the turning of other locks.
you once climbed into a box
with chains around your ankles
& your assistants threw you over
the side of a ship.
i practice this same trick
only i stand on the fire escape
out my apartment window
& count cars on the street below.
harry, there are different kinds
of running water. harry,
did you see locks or mouths?
i want your hands down my throat.
i want you to turn until i open.
is this love?
this might just be worship.
did you ever pray
in the midst of a show?
did you feel that pin-pick of desperation
that turns all of our bodies to questions?
this is why i am speaking to you
because i think you might
dream of escape just as much as i do.
you might make languages
out of mirrors. you might be hiding—
slinking from closet to closet
pretending each door opens
to a room full of people.
i am a room full of people
i want you to bind my hands.
i want you to hang me by my feet upside down.
i brought locks for us
of all sizes &
i want to put a collar around
your neck & swallow
all our keys.

– Robin Gow