Occupation

Old monuments line

the roadway

to our meeting place

where often I have

traveled, spurred on

by designs

of our own making,

to where the tremors

of first steps were laid

together, and fingers

pronounce their findings

on the once foreign

territory of neck

and shoulders, which

move beside me as

bodies breathe

in asymmetry

and we remain our own

but caught within this

occupation of the night.