Drape

I don't get to do this enough anymore.


Drape 7/15

The sun bakes my bed – bleaches my green blanket
I lay there at 6 o’clock and feel it scrape against my back
            a parade of bedbugs across my spine – I feel the mosquito insert
The sun has long nails made of iron – keening the death of Greek gods
            she etches her loss onto me – I lay there every day and sleep

I could close the curtains to her advance but no one else has a window
            that she peers in at 6 o’clock
No one else bares their back