there you are.

Saturdays, and the 1 pm alarm clock
on snooze,
the bare-faced evenings
in throw blankets
languid but there is still
a rabid tongue
between fits of sudden inspiration,
moved
from sheets to
cushions to sheets
to type it down
to shower
once a week
if you’ll allow yourself to feel warmth
graze your
chin, scalp, untouched thighs.
open your chapped lips to the sky,
feel the water rush your neck,
trickle down your navel,
soak your unseen toenails.
and do not question anything
for those whole three seconds,
it is the closest thing to orgasm
you can manage.

it has been a tough change in seasons.
tights and boots and an expansive
blankness that still drives your body around
after work to get soy milk,
make polenta for lunch,
take  out the compost,
take out the trash,
finish something you once started
when it was
skirts and cherry blossoms,
some organic laughter on a fast bike downhill
and a patient optimism that seems
unvisited
but should be worked out
by now.
sometimes it is actually pouring
on an errand.

it is harder than that too.
there is a cold and new cramps
and no tissues,
an anniversary coming that
hurts you silently,
and you do hear from them
but with expectations
and you have wrapped yourself tightly
in some binding perseverations
so you don’t bleed as openly as
before,
and sure, there is hunger,  but it’s quick and
you succeed in a relatively
docile surrender.
so what is there outside?
sometimes it is a blizzard.

then it’s flowers and sudden showers
but it is day longer, sun higher,
(the anniversary passed without incident),
with the sensualizing emotions to present,
the gloss and black tips,
hips in sheer nylon,
a gentle sway.
sometimes it is unseasonably warm
and you have to hold your cardigan in your hand
but you have managed a smile
and some sense of future
and dragged someone
along.
you get lucky and they want to take the long way
there as you have a tendency to
just suddenly rush
without finishing.

you are alone by midnight
in a screen,
in a glass of water,
and nothing else
and falling into
what remains
of a projection.
it will be hotter
tonight but
it will be the same.

“calendar”

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