Crawlspace

In the still dim folds of morning
Round the pale laced shroud-square
Of the window

- While you two
Are sleeping,
Snoring and purring
Softly, softly
And almost in unison
On either side of the still-warm
Crumpled crawlspace
In which, between your backs’ press
Each night I try
To extinguish hell –

I ready myself for battle
Girding lean loins in
Full briefs and false bravado
Stuffing my bra and hoping
I don’t lose it
All.

Already the voices
Crowd and clamour,
Negative, positive,
Arcing their opposites
Across the bell jar
Of the brain,
Battering, jitterbugging
In a constant current,
Tangled up, wired up
On the wire.

In the gathering light
I will assemble
An array of earrings
And incantations,
Prayers, plays,
Ploys, pretences,
Strategies, ruses,
Runes, routines,
High heels,
Desperate deals.

Until I’m
Brushed and blushed,
And dressed for the kill.
Then I’ll move up to the line,
Pausing by your bedside briefly
Trying to fix the moment,
Your knowing eyes,
Your gentle smile,
Drinking deep
A stirrup cup
Of your quiet hope and longings,
Sweet, sweet kisses, blessings.
Stuffing them, hopeless,
In my heart and handbag;
Adding to my armaments.

Leaving,
Lurching
Launching
Clicking and clattering,
Into the labyrinth

Trailing a thin, thin thread.