Love and Other Apertures

         Window petaled to the wall,

         finding union 

 

in a sharp arch—lancet,

 

          a knife that slices through tendons

and tissue. A man I leaned my body into

 

              went to church as fingers go 

              curiously to a wound. I came along

 

as a person comes into love, 

 

               architectural ache for substance 

and space, windows

 

and walls. When he held the hymnal open

               for me, the thin pages parted 

 

slickly. I opened,

 

whose interest was not in God

               but proximity, 

 

          how he sang softly

 

into the space between our bodies. 

 

                Hearing what was held

                        in the organ’s swell, not

 

the thud of leather as the last-

                        lifted note snaps shut, I stayed 

 

until the pews were empty. Stared at the window,

                                 seeing not lancet

 

                but light paring open, 

 

                              parting us. 

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Nathan Holloway is a poet, photographer, and composition instructor living in rural Arkansas and documenting the experience of being rural, queer, and southern. You can find his work in The Esthetic Apostle, GASHER, or on Twitter @unnatural_state.

Abigail McFee is a poet and Nebraska transplant living in Somerville, Massachusetts. She works as editor-in-chief of the Tufts Admissions magazine and formerly wrote an arts column called "Advice from Dead Poets (and Some Living)." You can find her on Twitter @abigail_mcfee.

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