The Morning After Our Anniversary

The morning after our anniversary
We are furled like scrolls in eggshell threadcount,
Two hand-rolled cigarettes
Smouldering in sticky sleep,
Our mouths crowded with a tacky syrup,
A coating of last night’s words
And wine
And toothpaste.

My head is lost in the pillow,
Heavy skull inside my scalp,
Bone anchor for my hair,
Riot of tendrils sunk in goosedown.

The roots shine like butterscotch,
A violent smudge of brown and amber
Spilling from under the duvet,
Seeping oil.

Your shoulder hollows out a clean curve,
A gentle erosion rubbing your scent
Into cotton cloth hills.
Your elbow makes an L on my right temple,
Body parts arranged like a puzzle
Scattered in a dark box.

We are buttered into the bed in our throbbing,
Quietly molting bodies,
Cells shedding all around us like a chalk line.

The sun murmurs over our dinner cloths,
Mr. and Mrs. a charming amalgamation of stitches.
And our lemon cream bodies in the hotel sheets,
Dying animals, mated pair, soft flesh
Slowly undoing in the morning.


~ by SimmerSnow on January 2, 2012.

One Response to “The Morning After Our Anniversary”

  1. Thanks for stopping by my blog…simply love this…..

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