I've been up all night
in someone else's bed
with someone else's cat sleeping on my tummy,
thinking of someone else's lover
going through their drawers
finding all their secrets:
like the dried leaves marking pages in books
and I've been trying to find those verses where I belong
raiding the fridge, the cupboards
but I can't reach
what I'm looking for.
Liebgott, come back
your breathing is still in my head
harder than the pounding of fists against
against
against
the headboard
I've been up all night
in someone else's bed
reading someone else's war novels
reading someone else's notes
written in the margins
'cried my eyes out, when Joe found himself in
that camp'
o, Liebgott come back to me
your sharp face
is still against
against
against
my breast.
I wish I could belong
like notes written in the margins