Written by Tresaun Lee for her wife, Maia
I shove my backside against the perfectly assorted seam.
Rubbing the 300 count about
my thighs –in silent hopes to feel
wrap around my waist.
Never begging to wash sheets.
Praying the scent of you escapes my
feather down &
sinking deeper into an oversized dray;
awaiting to be weighed down to
the box spring.
The gentle thrusts of slow spooning singing out.
When will you return here and make this castle
feel less big?
Like the nape of your neck –smaller in fact.
Consume the “other” side.
Let me roll over into your warmth
rather than the chill of that empty sort.
Have me wake in dire nights to a steady
breath on my cheek and eyelashes
batting open to dawn.
tangled tresses interlock on my tips –even
in the dead of night. No black room can darken
Every sleep alone does fill this dread.
Yet and always I find it too much of a
pillage to assort these pillows
to stack them so –to remake
your inanimate body feel like it’s here.
Just come home to this scene.
For even a King feels small
in a chariot beset for a Queen.