i cover my knees with the small quilt
and fold into the corner of the
mattress on the floor.

you are drunk,
because your droll is somewhat slurred
and southern and you cannot look me in the eye.
you husk down your printed pants,
and your lean legs cross the room to me.
in every memory of you,
you are walking towards the bed,
and this is the contented sigh.
this is what i've waited for all night.

i have never known needing someone so wholly.

you talk to me about some book you've read,
twisting my red curls around your long fingers.
you say, "i've never known someone so well as you."
i swallow something sharp, afraid of what that
will mean to me if you should suddenly be gone.

i cannot help but always be
on the verge of crying when you're holding me.
there is something so intent about your
limbs tangles up in mine.
but i have known your other lovers.
will i be someone you wistful wonder on
in someone else's bed this time next year?

you put a cool hand on my forehead,
"i can tell that you are over-analyzing, darling.
why don't we shut the lights?"

we lie loosely over legs and torso
and i dream about your skin,
green river in july, the first time that you touched me,
and my little private death that
convinced me this was right.

09/09/2009

Posted on 09/09/2009
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer