It’s morning already
cogs turning clear
annoyingly bright
If I were sensible
I would start the long road
to my parents’ home now
You huddle me under the sheets
your joints locked
into corners around me
hunger and the scent
of love close
enclose me
I’m wrestling you
for the freedom to breathe,
laughter choking my lungs
You exert your lover’s rights
to drip saltily on me
I reach to wipe your brow
but o, my love, my heart--
your eyes…
_
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
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