FIRST ANNIVERSARY
The weekend away
a foreign bed
afternoon sheets in a twist;
my breast your pillow.
Against the rise
and fall of flesh
out it slips:
I’m sad all the time.
Stillness
like listening in the dark
to a creak.
Settling or danger?
Slow unwinding
of bodies and breath,
bare witness to the ceiling.
Here we are.
All the effort
of moving
on come to this,
a soft failed gesture.
Say it again
the truth
that asks me in:
you, too, are broken.