If you stay we can
figure out how long it takes.
The way you kiss me around
the wrists. Tap messages on my back. Don’t say
a word. Write to me only in French. Turn
the thermostat down to sixty and pad
to the kitchen in socks, wrapped up
in blankets like secrets. Boil a pot of water. Two
cups will do. Come back with tea. Steam will
fog between us as we wait under quilts.
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