Sleep well curled round each other. When you dance
Your hands, arms. bodies wind into the shapes
of serpents, angels. Now a blanket drapes
your bodies – dance continues. Your romance

a work of art as much as lust and sweat
and kiss-saliva pooling on a back.
When you sleep, it is not because you lack
further desire or that you can forget

the shapes you make. You know that you make art
each moment you’re together. Curled at rest
fucking or dancing. Which of these is best
I can’t decide, and shouldn’t even start

to wonder. When you close your bedroom door.
Sleep safe. We will not watch you any more.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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