on being held and holding

unsent letters personal
sex love body

on being held and holding.

this morning, as i put aside from my mind the breezes of autumn, i reflect on how i find incredible comfort and contentness and security in holding. i slept with kitty breton like this for all of our time together, either in classic spoon, or on my back with him tucked tightly against my right rib with my arm wrapped around his extremely furry body and head resting in the soft spot below my shoulder. If i was forced by physical pains or sleep difficulty or both to turn to my stomach, we would assume the latter position merely flipped - my ear and cheek on the mattress, pillow shoved above my head, kitty breton willingly smothered into my face slightly lifted from my hand slipped under him. my palm down and thumb and fingers in a mit-shape as makeshift pillow. aerially i imagined this formed an arrow-head shape with my shoulder and elbow and wrist.

before this gloriously devoted feline was born, my four stuffed animals and two raggedy ann dolls, the long-standing constituents of my bed court, played the role of holdee-s, my frames of sleep. during and after kitty breton, friends and lovers took position. the lovers oft with a struggle when kitty breton was there, without hiding their annoyance in pursuit of to where to fit in our inflexible evening-long program of established horizontal territory.

i understood my not liking being held, another’s body against my back, arms around my front, as shielding. not willing the exposure of my most vulnerable flesh. when a hand attempts to hover or rest upon my belly while i lie on my side, the negative space around its surface and inside between my organs and muscles are so obvious. unarmed ports, i feel the air. the site of contact is impatient and i wait restlessly until i feel ive been generous enough and act on my timed roll over.

in my short walk back to my apartment now, refusal to relinquish the care of my stomach into the trust of another and the field beyond, appears less as a symbol or manifestation of how my fear expresses itself, but an expression of how and where i place my trust and love.
in holding others, i place this vulnerable site in the field made by, and framed by, betweened-bodies. i leave my kidneys exposed, my back open - equal sites of stormy weather - to external forces - to give in my belly the space made in the expression of liminal communion.
the self preservationists protection.🝏