I thought I found loving you long ago But tonight wary I crawl
To your bed
My bed

With a wine-stained mouth and shaking hands

The sounds of creaking door hinges Hang in the still blue air
And the dunes of your
Shoulder blades call to me

Your sleep soaked voice murmurs my name As I trace the moonlit ridge
Of your spine
Moving mountains of blankets

To reach obscured skin

Tonight I learned loving you is knowing You’re leaving me
But clinging to your
Almost absence

With broken fingers and a dry mouth

Seattle, 2017