Energy Jennifer Streeter Your shoulders are the negative side of the magnet, and my hands are marked with a plus. A fishing hook lodged between the cracks in my spine tugs me to you, pulling me from the papers, the projects, the plans you and I have made together piled up on the table, sifted between mail. Something like love radiates inside of me, buzzing in my fingers, radiating in my liver, my toes, burns on your back where my affection scalded you. Your heart is a replica of mine valves that match up and fuze together like the broken, melted, crayons on the radiator. Edges clasping together, trying to escape our core, pounding against our ribcage, an electrocardiogram drum.