Sport 13 Spring 1994
6:35 am/pm
6:35 am/pm
You take his coat,
his case.
He gives them up
as he would an argument,
his eyebrows lift a little
at this 1950s TV
husband-and-wife domesticity.
You carry on, take
his tie, his suit jacket,
unbutton his white shirt
cool as plastic
kitchenwrap.
You draw him down
into the contract
the agreement line
of your shared bed.
He rolls over into the shape
of a sub-clause,
dark, tightly typed,
justified to one side.
His desire is less
than his tiredness.
You can wait.
In the morning
he turns, pulls you up
inside his knee tuck.
Against the blue sheet,
you curl close as two speech marks;
where it all starts.