On Upper Room Quilts
Published in
Oct 13, 2021
I’d put the pockmarks
Really imagined
Right up there why
I sheltered in shy.
I bet my ballocks,
Too full like my skull,
Hairpin triggered,…
They both strained my locks.
Old rain windowed our talks.
We’d wait ’till they weren't awake,
On upper room quilts.
Whispering in our underthings,
Saying secrets low, no guilt.
The big black would not hide us none.
I would seek her beacon smile,
She would watch me redden.
Way short of once and awhile
Our smooth skins would meet
Like downed power lines go
On a new snow street.
