A Sunday Poem: Sheets


Sometimes I have a dream that I’m laughing

on white sheets in midday

in the room I grew up in

with the sun striping every shadow from your face

you pull my leg over your hip

and I say, “how romantic”

We both know the meaning

of white and light

kissing without tongues

laughing without jokes

dreams start and end like men

out of haze into haze

starting life without a shadow on your face

ending life under the cover of sheets



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