Sunday 2nd January 2011, A. Palmer
As the early worm escaped the bird
and the morning light broke in
through flimsy blinds I, in a lack of foresight,
preferred to curtains,
we finally fell asleep.
You clambered on top of me,
lighter than I thought even you would be.
There we lay and worked our breathing
into a rhythm comfortable for both of us:
I inhaled when you exhaled, breathing you in.
To the morning burgling and prying,
we looked as though we were mirroring one another,
or sleeping in a cradle,
or in the middle of a warzone, you
It was an intimate moment,
one I’d immediately recall if we ever broke up,
when we spotted one another in a bar
and tried to ignore that we once
slept breast to breast.