Clove Hitch

Awake,

We recall all of our former lovers, baffled

By the histories that brought us to this

Bed, out of the rain, and into each other’s

Arms. Other parts swam separate and

We noted their travels with smiles and

Teeth and wet bites where the ropes

Are just beginning to fasten down. We

Test each other’s readiness for such grip

With delicate nodding of heads till our

Rib cages touch and push everything close.

 

Till

Our skin is too hot to hold, and the white

Noise of our commingling breaths begin to

Drown out the hum of this April rain, and

We simply cease to notice that it’s morning.

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