03.

"two warm bodies wrestle without touching"

03.

up first, leaving me behind,
morning premonition.
you stand beside the bed
impatient for something
you already have. up first,
another lonely second
and time sweats
as it races away.

your boxers
unwrinkle, my eyes
at your thighs, I reach out
toward a future stranger,
brushing at your blood,
beckoning, jealous
of the blue cotton barely
kissing you this early.

you look back with scorn:
incorrigible, I.
a fool for thinking
love, like a voyage,
endures, gets beat but runs,
the Ford we never drove down 95.

so full of you this morning
I might even love myself;
might even dance alone and
I overflow, pour out gold
and ivory chains.
at my most tender you
burrow deeper inside,
taking things
I don’t remember offering.

autumn morning in a white room,
precious, porcelain, pale,
two warm bodies wrestle without touching
yearn without living, take
turns stealing happiness from the other.

I smile to myself, starved but
satisfied on memory.
a car ride home, your hand in mine.

at least I gave it back.

more to come soon.

thanks for reading.

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