It is cold, oh,
it’s so, so cold,
and still the lover
says find the door,
walk out and come
to me. My breath
hangs in the air
between us, then
disappears. I shiver,
and the lover says
take off your clothes
and walk to me.
There are no promises
of warmth. Come here,
says the lover,
and take your time.
This is not how
I pictured it.
Why is it I’m sliding off
first one sock,
then the other,
my skirt, my slip,
my definition of bliss,
and letting them fall
in a heap to the floor.
Where’s the door?
Oh woman, be brave.
And if you cannot
be brave, be foolish.
And if you cannot
be foolish, then
hush and let the legs
just start walking.
