This is not
the same world
we once
lived-
You let me know
when you're ready
for that little thing-
(and it's such a tiny thing)
Whatever you want.
The whole world revolves around your sudden hand.
The turbines creak into motion, and a spark jumps the infinite gap between your finger
and my wrist-
I've been shuffling
the
house at night
for months, like
a busy-
There's so much to do-
and I get it done
slowly like a
glass of wine
filled with a leaky eyedropper-
by the time the
glass is full the
wine has gone
to vinegar, the
wine is vinegar-
And I finally crawl
into bed beside
you, guilty as if
I'd actually gone somewhere.
You
move your finger away, and I can feel the place where you didn't touch me with it.
The spark died a horrible death somewhere along the way.
Maybe tomorrow-
There is something
terrible inside you when you
wake me up every morning because I no longer hear the
alarm clock. I don't know who put it there, but you hold it tightly
in your chest and it
makes the little
muscles in the
sides of
your neck stand
out.
You still have
an
honest smile
for
me when you
get home from work
but seem so
tired and so
ground-down.
And we're both
smoking again-
(
little sins)
When I come
to bed you
always scootch
your back up
against my belly
with a little murmur
a sigh and a
sleepy
smile-
Why can't we be
as comfortable
awake as we are
when we sleep-
And why am I
afraid of coming to bed?
When you're ready
I will be ready and we will live the world we once lived in a tomorrow full of
sleepy smiles---
title courtesy of prole's homenode