|Left a message in the leaves for you|
bedsheets lose heat quickly and having had all day in the basement are frigid, yet after the initial shock of immersion their cold fingers sooth the muscles of my back & legs, draining sinew of serious pressure-nothing special, just life.
i flip through Sandburg & settle on a few poems before bed, something for the unconscious mind to tinker with while i sleep.
A stone face higher than six horses
stood five thousand years gazing
at the world seeming to clutch a secret.
entering the room my wife pads to the closet. door open i watch in the mirror over the top of the book as she changes into bed clothes---returning to the page as she turns, giving a random line an intense look, as if waiting for it to move.
the bed moves slightly as she enters & i settle the book on my chest, push a thumb and finger into my eyes, working them back and forth. we talk of things that are none of your business, well really of no interest to you & and i really remember little, distracted by the warmth of her leg on mine. it's smooth and...
'want to cut the light off?'
'yeah,' she answers & does,
drowning the room in black, our eyes adjust. taking in the faint hint of moonlight that leaks through two small windows. the dark is a blanket we wear, my book thunks to the floor, forgotten & i will apologize to Carl tomorrow, if the opportunity comes, finding myself occupied currently.
'i forgot to leave the light on the stairs for the boys,' she says
stilling even the cricket that sings every night as we close our eyes & fills the room, leaving us unmoving, turning the thought over like a found bauble to see where it fits in the story we were just writing together & the possibilities that come with not responding
like a good mother, she rises, passes through the night, clips the switch and returns, her flesh cool now. i pull her in and we settle into comfortable places of each other, only truth between, clutching secrets until dreams overtake us.
Another write, just to write. The italicized verse above is from Sandburg's 'The Has Been.'