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As the Sirens Sing


As the Sirens Sing

I slide out from between the warm sheets

gently lifting his heavy arm off of me

and tiptoe through the strange apartment

to find the kitchen table

and begin to write

of some moment the night

stirred in me

Maybe a graze of the nipple

or the way a shirt draped the chair

the singing of the sirens

mixing with the echo of the moans

the moonlight passing through

the glass from the bottle on the nightstand

the way the sound of him snoring fuses

with the smell of Tide to become almost corporeal

Knowing I will remember these things

long after I have forgotten his name

First Publication Rights - The Big Window Review

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