Out

of darkness an outline
traced on the bedroom floor
by a naked bulb overhead
heavy with light, drawing me in-
to its promise that every curve

will be love-handled
until one, beginning-to-end.

In such a place, am I free
to bend forward without
losing a feel for the familiar
footboard, the known creaks
of this mapped mattress?

Does the outward
require a casting off

of these gentle sheets, this body-
heated bed to discover that out-
lying world said to be true?
Here I go
though, wait, what’s this

new cavity in me
yawning

for a form in daylight?
My moon-shape is
misaligned with sunshine,
this pour of blaze
creating me in its image.

It’s a set-up.
I’ve been framed

like a door people can now enter
and exit at will. Where’s my
down-feather pillow,
that soft ground
to cover ears, drown out

this constant flow
of opinions?

Published by asaur