I do not know how to wind bandages
around broken toes, or brace
the sprains you inevitably create.
Mine is not a healing care,
but a loving one.
If I could kiss every concussion clean,
squeeze your heart to the right contractions
and eat out cancer with my bare tongue,
I would have no qualms.
You are the balm to my pockmark body.
Allow me to be the salve of yours.