Susanna Lang

You take the cats out with you, shut the door: I have the whole wide bed, all the covers to fall back asleep in, while you cut up and sugar the strawberries, grind the coffee, leave the radio off so I won't be disturbed. The room is still dark, rain forecast for the entire day, other people's family picnics cancelled, barbecues moved into basements, parades rerouted to avoid flooded viaducts, the iris losing petals beside newly cleaned graves, their mason jars spilt into the saturated ground. But here is my holiday, this drift back beneath thought while I lie in the warm impression of your body.