It is Sunday, and we cleaned together. 
I’m more in my body than I knew people could be,
feeling the life in my fingertips,
the softness pressing back on my feet, 
the water in me shifting, leveling when I rock.

It’s a Sunday, and we offer to get each other groceries,
and I am grateful to be meeting my body
after hovering just above and to the left all these years.
I am grateful for my bloody noses,
grateful for all the water letting me ripple and settle in the sun.