Poetry

I am there,
Standing
In the bathroom.
There are wooden floors.
They creak just loud enough
To announce my lover’s
Padding footsteps –
Light as they float back into our bed –
After waking in the night
To get a glass of water,
Or turn off the fan.

The door is open
And
I stand in the bathroom.

My head is tilted
As I follow the
Line of my jaw
With a razor.
You can see my Adam’s apple.
There is shaving cream in
The corner behind my ear.
Maybe my lover watches me
From the bed, idly;
Maybe they walk towards me,
Playfully.
Maybe they laugh and
The shape of their laugh
Carves out a space in my chest,
Striking edgeless notes against
The beams of sunlight on the floor.
I can see all of their teeth,
Like they are lined up just for me.
I think about my fingers in their mouth.
Maybe they run their fingers over my throat,
Wipe away the shaving cream
I missed.
Their hand gently cupping my ribs,
We kiss –