Between Planes


This day shifts around us,
algorithmic and drumming to
sidewalk food trucks selling
meats in waffle cones, shots of
espresso and bicycle rentals.

I feel the corners of your
mouth growing gilded orchards
on the nape of my neck,
and I keep catching myself
tracing new states in the space
between your shoulder blades.

I'll keep bedside poems to
read when you can't fall asleep,
and you'll keep pulling me to
your side of that century-old
mattress to remind me of
each day we've built
and finished
together.

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