I'm losing her.
All day she's been
in his twilight arms
in our bed. Later,
when I come to bed,
she smiles and I know
he's still invisibly there,
but she is so pale and dreamy
that I kiss her eyelids,
her bruises, rub her
shrinking belly, hold her
to my heartbeat. I roll
on top of her and she loosens.
Stick it in, she says, stick it
right in.
Morpheus, you bastard,
you'll have her soon enough,
get out of her pulse,
get out of our bed.
|