and in those days
there was no blanket too small
for us to share.
my feet nestled beneath his thigh
like incubating eggs, warm
under their mother’s shelter.
he would groan sometimes
at how freezing they were
but still took them into his hands,
at times kissing them
like they were precious and helpless,
in need of his toasty touch
to bring them into full life.
and they did, as i did, need him.
warm against my back on brutal nights
where the only sanity and solace
was inside the bed we shared.
how he’d always say
you know you have more willpower than me
and i would roll out from under the duvet
reluctantly, so we
could get to work on time in the mornings.
the last night i went to sleep next to him
i woke up and he wasn’t there.
cold swept through my whole body,
like a blizzard of abandonment.
in the end it was him who had all
the willpower.


From Magma 83




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