Good Sirens

Skin
Skin is the first thing I think of
when I think of you
your warmth
smoothness
the hearth of cuddle
wrapping my skin around yours
my arms along yours
the big bird bones of our hands
knuckles gently bent around
how calm and warm and smooth it is
and then suddenly
how short–you’re up like that
there are ten minutes of this or so
and then you’re up like that
making coffee

Oh that we would have the luxury
of feeling able to settle into
each other for a whole amniotic morning
a whole one

Hours without time ticking down
to some task

Just in the flow
in the womb flow
Mandy walking on us
walking on top of the blanket
braver when we’re inert
or meowing from the other room
now and then

Birds becoming more persistent
in song and then
less persistent
introspective
meandering with my thoughts
meandering

Even a siren can sound
comforting
especially in the morning
a siren like business being done
somehow elsewhere
juxtaposed
with us relaxed
in the here & now

A siren like rain happening perhaps
the extras on the scene outside our door
should we choose to get up

The siren an anti-siren
saying don’t come out there, it’s other stuff
going on out there, just soundtrack stuff
beyond
the intimate cell of your domicile

Siren, such a weird word
heralding some sad stuff
but also some happy stuff
and poetically mostly happy stuff
in this spool at least

There’s the siren song of now
that siren song of the womb room
that siren song of Mandy plodding on carpet
her feet making oddly heavy sounds
though again she is light like
the birds
our hands are like
the birds
the birds are like
the birds
and sirens
and the sirens are like and unlike
sirens

~ L