Intermingled limbs rest on a Sunday morning. Our dog stretches and readjusts.

There is no space between us. Bodies wrapped together in white sheets, interred as one.

How many of our days begin this way? How many hours spent intertwined with sleep or sex or some mix of both?

I asked about your name when we were introduced on the internet. What vast worlds of knowledge are separated by hard and soft sounds?

Today we fight against separation. Our inter-species family lives on top of one another.

What a perfect thing to celebrate, our single story of interdependence. Two cuts parallel in the same flesh.