ryan hooper

Body as Tape

You spool me out—

a long vowel of flesh

stretching through static.

Every joint clicks

like a playback head.

I remember being spliced:

cut   here,

tape there,

breath crossing

its own seam.

Our bodies repeat,

and warp under ardour.

A cheek becomes waveform.

Our stomachs: feedback.

A kiss: delay line.

In the nearness,

our loop coughs,

        cannibalising

                  its own

                         beginning.

We call this        tender    ness.