A Valentine’s Day Poem

The blinds are pulled down

over the window leaving two inches of glass at the bottom.

Light from the street pushes through the slight opening

causing a stripe to paint itself across our bedroom.

Our bodies, sliced by the light, ignore the minor vulnerability.

Rather than check for people outside,

we push the heart-shaped box of chocolate off the bed

and move each other in ways that doesn’t cause numbness

or lack of movement.

The floor,

visible in the bar of gray light,

trembles with dark, ruffled wrappers and cherry cordials.

Socks and chocolate lay paused on the carpet

as two lovers weave through the intruding light:

        from outside we must look like a pile of hips and thighs

        twitching faster after every lash of the whipping light.

In the morning, 

spread across brittle wrappers

will be the chocolates mashed into the floor.

We’ll find that someone stepped on the lid of the box,

crushing it slightly,

making the fit permanently 

awkward and distorted.