In Case of Heat
This heat between us
curls up, asleep in its turmoil
blowing spits of recycled air
at our toes. This heat manages
a space that should not exist
between the narrow flanks of a single bed,
but yet weighted we boil, stirred by
a breeze conditioned to burrow
and tarnish the hollow ground
on which we totter.
This heat beats our words
in a tongue-race, pushing silence
and miscommunication into our night
time prayers, blanketed with layers of
the unsaid –snug, content, complacent–
it lies here between our backs
as they face each other a bedtime standoff
after a passive disagreement, though we
should not call it that. The heat allows
no combat or fireworks to identify
where there may be bleeding,
but blood is here, sweltering between
our parallel spines as this unbearable heat
conceals our withdrawn weapons in sweaty sheets
and releases murmurs about the morning maintenance.
The heat reveals no fix this malady, no wrench
to lessen this wedge, no ice to calm its destruction.
So much catching up to do!