Quilted Battle Fields

In between the quilted battle fields and sheets soft and numbing like running warm water over cold hands

I take for myself a new lover whose eyes one night reminded me of you,

though his laugh could crush the magic

I am laying open with one hand slung across his chest and the other pinned beneath my own body

Like someone just left me here

And all my sin is this: that I live not sumptuously delighting in the present,

but in 542 yesterdays

Patches stitched in seconds called nows spread out on the bed

He and I mock and perform a tribute like loving in real life

disbelief suspended like a dream catcher

In all the  intimate moments of pleasure

I compare and envision this is me + you

And in my hidden discontentment, when imagination

cannot carry be back

Time = me + you ^ 2


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