i admire the way you purge
putting your face on,
your night shirt,
and then your love

you unwind time
like poetry
leaving traces of your
idiosyncrasies from
all the seasons
inside the seams
of your pillows
and ever
changing faces

you: like Amos Lee and your salty jokes
during the summer months
like exchanging faces beneath the linen
like your ceiling fan turned on to
blow the air
or the love away