The residual heat
from the beast with two heads
is fading now, long
past the sprawled out,
dissipating energy phase.
We've moved through
the critique-and-kudos stage.
Wrapped in his arms,
warm and relaxed,
I want to drift away.
My vivid affection
becomes less intense
with each braying snore.
The coldness of the wet spot –
always on my side, of course –
assails my hip and I lay
awake in the moonlight,
a chilled leaky vessel.
~~ Ginger Hamilton
[Tomorrow: Travelling]
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