Girl,


you know I love you in that way that girls
love girls, but your yellow finger cared hair
is in my throat and lipstick breath’s sour gags
me. Us sleeping nose to nose never goes
exactly as we please but butt to back
and your sweet fat takes the space it needs.
Close my eyes, feign a sleep, dare not speak
like two boys at a urinal, we’re no
puppies in a kennel, I prefer we not
speak at all, but your heavy body anchors
the bed, in a subtle way reminiscent
of wearing just one earring, made of tar.
And between the fart trapping quilts, I strain
to itch, shushing give me back the blankets bitch.