Night



After the shock
of naked flesh
on clammy sheets,
of icy feet pressed
sharp and burrowing
into your warmer pair,
or chilled air slithering
and licking at our ears,

after the shift of breasts
on backs, of legs 
folding on legs and arms
stretched out, or crooked
around soft waists
or under weary necks,

we finally sleep,
the night sinking
around us, oozing
like summer mud
to fill the gaps
between our skin
and supple bones.

On waking,
we have fused,
my shivering back
drunk off the heat 
from your feverish chest,
your flush cooled
in the burrow of my throat

‘till we are tempered 
and on reaching out
my hand I find it 
hard to tell where you 
begin and my own fingers end.



Ali Fischer