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Mar 2012
after the heat began to swell,
we’d never leave our bed

open windows, curtains yawning-the incoming breeze rose
goose-pimples on polka-dotted freckles

lying shirtless next to me,
our contours matched but gaped wide
because of the heat,
faded jeans cuffed
just above his ankles

the blinds flutter-a momentary brightening
flitting over the sheets, rumpled, creased
and tangled around bare limbs

His breathing deepened, and I fought heavy eyelids,
but after watching ants weave drunkenly
up and down the windowsill,
my eyelids won and

I slept.
Emily Clarke
Written by
Emily Clarke
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