Don’t hog the bed, dog/man.
Be aligned with grace.
You lie fallow
burning and glowering
like a smouldering log.
Stretch light in bed.
Where are your nighttime manners?
You turn your face aside,
growl, heavily sigh,
expending bad air.
Your dreams snag,
taking up space in my peace of mind.
Half those sheets you shrug away are mine.
Those coverings also cover me.
Hours of our eternity
spent gloomily side by side, sick animals.
Your back’s landscape a sandbag
and, looming, the strange boulder of your head.
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