Published in edition four of Lot's Wife, August 2020
I am used to love
like a storm —
conquering, all-consuming —
but yours is
a Sunday morning —
coffee grains spilt
on marble counters,
the smell of garlic
from last night's pasta.
It is the day wrapped
in satin sheets and kisses;
the window, the closest —
we’ll get to the sun today.
It is you
holding me tightly
where I say
it hurts the most —
feeling pages
of burnt poetry
and bruises
slowly healing.
Put down your pen —
the chapter has
ended.
I am arriving now
in this sanctuary
made for two.
Feeling you
caress my scars,
filling their crevasses
with red wine
and country music.
Watching the sun
go down —
my body merging
with yours,
knowing I’ll be
held close
as tomorrow wakes —
another Sunday morning
with you.
Comments