The Night Dance
By Jenna Reimer
The ceiling looks different tonight.
Over our bodies the lighted lattice comes and goes;
The window muffles the rusted exhausts and pickled voices outside.
I am awake to listen.
Your moth-breath, deep exhales,
Suck back the dead air; the slow brooding sound
Within a drafty library I cannot stand.
I am awake to breathe that sulphured loveliness.
I stumble from the bed.
My footsteps echo, mule-heavy,
With a full nakedness that shadows the sound of my being.
I am awake to feel 3 am.
Cold bath tile, a distant wind moves in my ears;
A mirror reflects my eyes puffy in a shade of tired pink.
One cry leaves my head heavy in hands.
I am awake to remember this.
The ceiling looks different tonight.
Over our bodies the lighted lattice comes and goes;
The window muffles the rusted exhausts and pickled voices outside.
I am awake to listen.
Your moth-breath, deep exhales,
Suck back the dead air; the slow brooding sound
Within a drafty library I cannot stand.
I am awake to breathe that sulphured loveliness.
I stumble from the bed.
My footsteps echo, mule-heavy,
With a full nakedness that shadows the sound of my being.
I am awake to feel 3 am.
Cold bath tile, a distant wind moves in my ears;
A mirror reflects my eyes puffy in a shade of tired pink.
One cry leaves my head heavy in hands.
I am awake to remember this.
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