The first bed was small
We so golden in our unity
Bodies pressed together
Seam of heat that reached
The edges of our length
Heads on one pillow
Breathing into one another’s ears
As we created muscle memories

In the futon year we gave up sleep to other desires
Drank too much
Laughed naked in every room
Bought more pillows to soften the slats
Tossed and turned, navigating the lumps and wrinkles
Restless in our nights of stumbling ***
We moaned too loud
Ate sandwiches in bed
And slept so little

The king-size mattress we were given
When someone else was tired
From sleeping in the same-old-same ruts
We let these other lives roll us outward
Bought more pillows
Slept in the spaces of others’ love
(or lack thereof)
And reached longingly across the expanse
My hand on your shoulder
Your toes on my knee

After the wedding we climbed onto the bare display beds
Worried that our spooning would shock the other shoppers
Impatient, you reminded me:
“This is how we’ll really sleep.
Don’t you want to know it will work?”
And then I laughed
Thinking of the things we couldn’t try in the store
How the weight of you and me
Would carve nests to suit our needs
And we bought more pillows because we could

Tonight I came to bed late and tense
Fidgety and flailing to interrupt your calm
In the dark you pulled against my hip
Shuffled cats and blankets, legs and sheets
You went over, I rolled under
To test the novelty of your half of the bed
Sheets that smell of the first spring storm
Cats turning circles to settle again
This invitation to sink into your broad imprint
Is all I need to rest