sixteen months under covers and i’d still deem you my Blarney Stone
wit buzzes on your lips like soft little atomies
nothing mangled like a mite but soft and touchable like a little ladybug
i wrap around you like an upper case and lower case c
a purple painted sky curving softly around a toenail moon
the bed is warm with laughter
our door is the first up the stairs, but dissipating between your soft shoulder blades, i’m sequestered in a soft humming blanket fort
my anodyne, my warm milk girl, to love you is to wade in the serotinal months, because thats where we’ve always begun
we consecrated our patterns on this mattress and these walls’ glassy stars watched while you changed into pajamas
cracks in these wooden floors have been caked and spackled with our tears sweet and ugly
the bed belongs to us ma chouette
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