Unclaimed Evenings

I want to dissolve into our bed and into you
blend into the fibres, into your pores,
particles flush with particles in the dark.
No more of this —
operating a metal machine to
move my body where it doesn’t want to be, to
carve a life out of busywork.
The planet is dying, and the lifetime
you and I roughly share isn’t guaranteed
to say nothing of our smallness
within our planet’s smallness
within our solar system’s smallness.
What I mean is,
I no longer have the capacity to think about my credit score.
The universe experiencing itself experiences
lunch n learns, the DMV, conferences, car trouble.
And how quickly I forget, how chronically,
that I am here and your are here in bed
and no one attempts to steal our labour away
all night.
I am here, and you are here.
What fragile, abused creatures we all are.
I am here, and you are here.
If the sun comes up tomorrow, I will try
to remember that.