Nightly Spar

An evening War

There are three blankets

on our bed. 

A duvet, oh-

I love that word, 

It reminds me of 

souffle, 

I've never had one,

but the word trips so sweetly off the tongue. 

I like to imagine 

flavor

-salty as tears, 

but sugary as a first kiss. 

Also, quilted comforter, 

gifted to us by your college roommate 

for our wedding. 

Same hue of blue as the 

jacket he loaned me when I 

was late to meet you

and the rain wouldn't stop racing

to strip leaves off fall trees.

When you saw me 

wrapped in the warmth of him

I noticed your 

green eyes light

with possession for the first time. 

Finally-a bedspread. 

It is reversible, some days I spread the

rich forest green and 

remember

when I ran through the 

tall grass

with the first girl 

I loved. 

The other side pricks 

my memory of sand

worn soft under

the sea. 

Wrapped in your arms, 

warm waves washing 

over us both. 

I hadn't seen the ocean in years,

but I knew

she remembered me.

And she was overjoyed

to see me happy

to be held by you. 

Ah. My dear. My love. My whole heart. 

Stop hogging the f*****g covers.