emancipated surrender

emancipated into the same sheets: it is evening again

not quite night,

here in winter early darkness blindfolds the options

I feel your hands cue the transition

taking off my bra (if I am wearing one) and let me tumble

on the quilt squares like soft potatoes landing, muffled

 

I feel as though I have not slept

in this bed on the rug in months, perhaps ever

though I was here less than a half days worth before

is your body mostly warm

 

or chilled, like a window

open, surrendered to the elements

a whole days worth is not worth the heft of my fall

I weigh more than I should in my shoulders, in my mind

 

thin lightening raps on a window

a hailstorm in the balmy rapture

February should not be this warm

so we love in the interim, laying down to our survival game

of wait and see