Steadily breathing, the room is
getting darker.
Moments.
Moments, I tell ya - little fucking specs in time:
your legs on my legs
black cat melting away on my torso
the quiet hum of the hand-me-down box fan
creaking floors with tip toes
watching the trees sway, sick with spring fever
listening to you breathe,
watching your eye-lids dance
putting my old pink panties back on
(one leg then another).
They're basically masterpieces, these moments.
Helping my swallow this life
letting me recognize the rips in our patchwork quilt
and realizing
it still keeps us warm.
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