by Corry Chapman

Your dark bedroom hummed cold in summer
underground walls sweating water
the slit windows covered, glued shut
a narrow bed on the cement floor
a sheet on the bed
the air poured in, sank and froze
outdoors the day burned
you let me in your bed
walked on the cold dirty floor, through ants and spiders, cold bodies
all dead, all dead
in your bed, the sheet on our chins, we kissed
naked under the sheet we kissed
in the black coldness your breath on my neck
your dry lips and teeth stuck to my lips
the cold wind too loud to hear your whispers
you purred in my ear, the skin on your thighs stretched
I held your thighs, your waist and shoulders,
your head
above the sheet, our faces stuck together and our skins
were tear-soaked, dropping off our bones that broke in the cold
one skin knotted in the wet sheet shivered on the bed

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