Monday, August 6, 2012
on a single bed
blue fitted sheet
we tunafish our slick knees together
and i math the heat in my head until it reads
104 degrees fahrenheit in small sweat numbers
against your neck.
you make a pillow from an inside out sleeping bag
and i swoon
at the way you roll your wrists
or your zipperside in origami fold.
i hold you by the hips until we are squares.
you call me soon like you know me by name.
and when my mouth is moving around words i can't remember long enough to thread together with periods
you tell me
what i am most afraid to hear.
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest