Counterbalance

We never were the right size
to hold each other.
My arms always a broken cradle,
your limbs overflowing mine.

We never woke them crying,
quiet mornings I climbed
and carried you over wooden bars.

I braced your feet on mine
pressed the two of us forward
and tilted,
turned our bodies
when your weight tipped us off balance.

We landed soft,
my bones beneath you.