right hand pointing

   

 

 
  Stephanie Anderson

on Bedroom Sleep



Moonlight converses with his body; 

the bed and sleep hold him as he sprawls, loosely wrapped in linen. 

(He doesn't like to commit, not even to the quilt)

I reach over, re-paint him, 

I give him blue eyes. 

He isn't stirred by secrets that nudge against him.

 

 

 

 

 

 




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