dear goodbye

I had a bunch of fevers this week, and I woke up all the time in a pool of sweat, and so there I was tearing off sweats & sweatshirts and cursing, and going to the bathroom and feeling my hairline dripping down me and my neck in all its wettest glory. And I had to move to the other side of the bed so's not to sleep in my pool, on your side is how I called it. but then I woke up today, and I washed what I'd referred to as your pillowcase, and I changed the sheets so the color wasn't even the same, and I moved the lamp to the opposite side, and I vacuumed up your hairs, and the edges of a condom wrapper (how the vacuum shouted then!) and I cursed more, and then I screamed at a tiny yellow spider, for even though I don't fear them they still make me startle in girlish outbursts always. all of the bits of sentences, though, I save for you for "one day" inside a pink envelope. because though I sucked all remnants of you up in that stupid plastic machine, still you remain or at least I can't have you not a little, for now. for now

treading warm breath morning

just like a kiss the morning starts, without me. her furred feet warm against me, the darkness more night than day, is. the voice like dreamtime maker trading against my headwalls a subtle beat & throb melody. I'm falling past the night now. I don't pull on them, the hairs, and I can see nomore the big gold spider recently webbuilding above the sewing machine. funny should they choose the places used oftenest, or at least of late. just to dare us to keep working. much better than dust gathered. and let it, then, let them all build their intricate perfect villages throughout the subaru. the dog moans, is having a dream. the paw pressed on my leg still warmly twitches. she breathes, should I wake her? Is Dreaming Away, Ida. Let her dream, let the spiders watch & wait for still opportunity.