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Poetry

Our Invention of Fitting

Every time I’ve caught you, airborne or bedridden, I’ve…

Tried to invent a new way of holding you. And while hundreds there were,

cradles, clasps, passions, pietas,

more often than not my curls and swoons and tenderness

forced

brought me so close, so deafeningly in

that you ended up holding me…

You know how:

true inventors are just failed Gods?

your folds I cannot fathom?

your fathoms I cannot hold?

Well, old timer…

Won’t you carry me to bed?

By the.vonz.himanen

Ivan Himanen is an architect, writer, and artist based in New York City.

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