Cursing

Voices from the old tv set crackle. There's fire in their throats.
You're watching your Disney movie about love and magic spells,
eating the omlette I made for you. I hear your chewing.
I just want silence.
The window's open just a crack and lets in a draught but I plant
my ass in bed, breathing the cold air.

I spent last night alone beside you, breathing out of synch with you --
my arms bare beneath the quilt -- my freckles incubating in darkness.
This morning you're ashamed of me. I'm back in bed cursing the daylight.
Desires are just neurons firing and cells traveling.

I look out the window.
Flowers emerge from under snow; bare arms emerge from under coats.
In the park stands half of a lightning-cracked tree,
a rotting house for insects. Barely breathing, never growing.
I look at your soft neck.
You will undress for me and wriggle underneath me like a worm.

You pull your arms up your sleeves.
Take off your bra so I can feel you underneath your shirt.
Fondle my naked torso with your cold hands,
kiss the burn on the back of my hand.
You tease me, hold me down and dangle your breast
an inch from where my lips can reach --
I can barely feel it with the tip of my tongue.
Your hands force mine against the pillow.
I'm at the mercy of your desires, spelled like a seven-letter word.

I lay beside you in the afterglow and I'm cursing you under my breath.
I'm ashamed of myself. I want the TV dinner in the comfy armchair.
Would you at least get me my goddamn slippers?

The whole room's an uncertain cell --
As if the walls may shatter any second.
I brace for the blast.