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TWO MOONS FOR HEAT
I am swimming towards you in a sea of bed.
The light from street lamp ripples and shimmers on the sheets.
My journey is illuminated
The colors of the day pushed down.
A yellow moon forms on the warp and woof of fabric waves.
Your face is crumpled from the dead man's
Pose of deep sleep. The dark grays of moon
And night sky, create beaches from our clothes
Sprinkled around the dark wooden frame
A first lap in the vast wet of resting waters.
Your face stirs, phosphorescence, a beacon in the journey.
I move through the sheets like an eel
Wanting to slither up next to you
Without waking you but grabbing your heat
I pass an errant sock discarded and silver from your foot
While your back muscles twitch with my movements
The pillows have been shoved aside
Smudged with my mascara and sheened with your body's oils
One eye opens. "I'm cold", I say.
You offer, "Come here,"
And reach out an arm.
Your fingers intertwine with mine
But my shivering doesn't stop and you rise out of the bed,
Go onto the beach and pull out your mother's pale yellow blanket.
Wrapping the wool around us, we create another moon on the surface of the sea.
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