Something Was Stuck, Rotting Between Your Morning Teeth

 OR                          

Falling Asleep In Work-Clothes

...







[It was 5 AM and
The crickets were still spooning on my window sill.]

Your cell phone alarm was a song we sung whenever we could.
But not this time.

I had slept for hours with my ring finger in the loop of your pants before, but
In my twilit grog, I recall thinking that this time was the best.


You had to leave in seven minutes or
Miss your train, But,  
This crusty-eyed morning,
At ungodly 5 o'clock - 
Before Work sharpened its pang - you
Languidly preached
That Under the comforter is nothing short of Heaven and that

Outside,
Is the vast kingdom of Hell; and so

You stayed softly Under with me
Until your living breath rattled at the neck
And jangled me warmly back
To sleep.


–


The crickets spooned still
Precisely as they do, on the sill, and 

When you returned greasy-beat and ready for rest again
From work,
You relayed this morning's events:

O, how I drooled! you said,
How our song thwacked and insisted and insisted itself into your ears.
How sleep honed itself into breakfast,
How you salvaged a work-shirt from the floor-pile, and how
You replaced my finger in your belt loop

With a rag

Used for wiping tables.


-JV