The Night You Leave the Door Unlocked
I slip to my ceramic tub,
the clawed feet curl hard.
I fantasize about a stranger
strolling into the apartment and robbing
your dressing drawers. I leave
angry at my shower head.
When you wake me too early
on purpose, I shiver
for your benefit.
You remind me of the kitchen corner,
how weak I am from the anemia,
that I let the bed sheet air-dry because I like it rough.
