Within the hour our bodies will slow to nothing
but the gentle beating of snow muffled drums.
You will take your arm out from under me and
I will turn with it, for you are keeping the warmth
for yourself. Our skin is rapidly cooling in the night
breeze from the open window, the gossamer drapes
billowing like ghosts. Goosebumps rise on my arms
like marching ants and I want the blankets around me
in a cocoon of body heat but I don’t ever want to move,
ever, ever; I want only to spoon up behind you like a
warm animal, skin like salt water taffy under the moon
in the window, framed painting of two lovers. With my
ear against your back I can listen to your heart beat,
shaking me apart like a tribal dance, bells on my dress
keeping perfect time, and I kiss your freckled shoulders
like a star map as a night owl coos in the branches by
the window. It puts us to sleep like drifting astronauts.
Gone are the kisses you give like building empires in
my mouth, conquering and renaming; now is the time
for slow pecks and flutters of eyelashes, dark smudges
against the cheeks. Now is the time for sweet touches
of fingertips against gentle skin. Now is the time for a
quiet rejoice.

(l.b.)