Speak, O muse, of having something in common,
of shared traits, as if our patched selves saw
an identical limb or color on each other;
but then pull back to look at words directly
for to hold in common is to have a commons,
an unowned land not yours nor mine
that yields to both;
to share a trait we must exchange it,
and identical limbs overlap because
they have the same identity,
questioning again identity's relation
to the individual; in every depth we find
a breadth that in secret commons we take
to fill our lung, & in each kiss a sharing
in lips that reaches to confuse ownerships
of pleasure.