after Oliver Baez Bendorf
And the way you used to. How perfectly oval your
fingernails pressed pink on the shower glass door.
The laughter ringing out of my throat when.
That giant sleigh bed where we would. Escaping.
Discovering the secrets of. Mad clawing.
No catching our breath. The stillness of your sleeping
head, eyes closed, mouth open. Our bodies pretzels.
Years ago. I still remember how. Desire I thought
was only for others. Whispers in the hallway
so as not to wake X and X.
Now pillow talk some mornings.