Naked, side by side in a swelteringly heated hotel room.
Dim light, the city outside the window, as fat, wet
Her hair short and tight, her body lithe, her breasts
Small, rolling mounds. Her breath is slow, even,
Her eyes bright and flushed.
I trace a slow finger over the ridges and valleys
Of her skin, at the strength and wire in her
Like angels. We are keep above and apart,
In warmth in the sky, behind glass that
Can’t let in the sun.
We enjoy winter, being safe from it.
Days and nights of just us, and all
Other things taken care of.
We do not touch now, or hold hands
Or cuddle, lovers at a distance,
Sharing the bed and hope of sleep.
It’s almost Christmas, and we are alone
And together, and not of this earth.
Our dreams are as silent as the grave.