your legs wrapped limply, loosely round my waist though their slack form belied a tension, or lets call it potential, a hidden energy that dispelled even the draft from the open window next to our bed from tickling or causing to stray out of rigid place one follicle in nearly hysteric anticipation. acutely aware of little legs draped across my frame, hairs, a thousand million of them, tiny daggers. these i felt. but i was not aware of feet. soft soled, calloused, clammy or bearing invitation to touch i could not tell. an unwavering band of light stretched across picturesque, rumpled sheets, rising and falling over valleys and into crests with grace and ease. a perfunctory action, though an exquisite display nonetheless. i thought of our bodies, so clumsy and misguided in comparison, as my eye ran the length of liquid light to the precipice of our quiet, quilted world.















ae.