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Bunk Beds

Caution, lost in the motion,

The tender lapse of green sea waves

The scent that has become you,

Sweet, sweet summer rain.

 

Like magnets, the polar pull, subsequent and building

The silent seize of your stomach muscles

Oh honeycomb.

Wrapped in cellophane, and the fleece in our ears

 

Your chin, the small hollow in which rests my head,

The cradle of your Adam's apple.

For hours I studied the color transmit in the darks of your eyes,

Of subtle change and shade

 

The soft, downy wool of your legs,

Warm blankets rescued from the creaking loft.

And your slow, sleeping breaths, of wind whistling through wheat fields

Shared dreams of barefoot gardens, sweet peppers in springtime

 

The gentle obstinacy of your fingers,

Extended forward in the thaw of shallow slumber.

The difference between oak and pine,

This nest you constructed, we lay in.

 

Nestled underneath the galaxy you installed, pin by pin.

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Written by
krissy-schiller
American
Published
Jul 11, 2011
Lines·Words
21·152
Permission

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