the oxygen of you

When you speak
the room warms,
my supple lungs expanding
with the oxygen of you

When I exhale
you inhale, slowly;
as children on a seesaw
our aged cheeks rise
with helium smiles

When you leave--
as the sun leaves the day
as leaves leave the tree
and winter calves autumn

a crisp cold arrives
cracking lips
and turning knuckles calloused
without the gloves of your
hands

as if
you took the air
as if I'm drowning
without lungs

or
perhaps
what was taken
was the oneness
of dance
of play
of love

ask any child
standing alone
before a seesaw
what one plus one
equals

I'm willing to bet
it ain't two