Sussurus of Sheets, Goodbye
He leans into his arm, peeks
at her hose crotch bed-height,
her breasts doubling over.
It’s no artist’s pose, feet in a basin,
pin shivers in pointillesque.
Still the hair she holds off her neck
sends heat into him. Otherwise,
color and motion, the day’s
global positioning rachets
into place with a purse click.
Sweet, she says into the near dark.
She could mean the sudden breeze,
but he catches her hand
with his rough cheek.
Terese Svoboda's fifth book of poems, Weapons Grade, will be published by University of Arkansas Press in fall 2009. Recent poems have appeared in Bark, Denver Quarterly, St. Petersburg Review, Barrow Street, and Ploughshares. (6/2008)