Nov
11th
Fri
11th
Outside my window, through the orange drapes,
I can see a light on in the building facing mine.
It is late now, an hour past when well behaved
citizens will have gone to sleep, and I wonder
who it is that finds themselves restless in this
perfect heat. Perhaps it is two people, lying
next to each other on the mattress, sheets
thrown to the ground, knotted on the floor. It
is too hot for love making, surely. Too hot even
for touching. No, I am sure they have both just
been lying there awake, sweating into their
pillows, breathing in the muggy darkness, both
hands placed by their sides, fingers spread
open. They have both been lying still, one
of them desperately trying to fall asleep, the
other measuring the distance between their
fingertips, waiting until the humidity becomes
too wet, the fire on the skin too near; waiting
until this moment to turn on the bedside lamp.
Deciding finally, to honor this kind of arousal
with something other than breath.
I can see a light on in the building facing mine.
It is late now, an hour past when well behaved
citizens will have gone to sleep, and I wonder
who it is that finds themselves restless in this
perfect heat. Perhaps it is two people, lying
next to each other on the mattress, sheets
thrown to the ground, knotted on the floor. It
is too hot for love making, surely. Too hot even
for touching. No, I am sure they have both just
been lying there awake, sweating into their
pillows, breathing in the muggy darkness, both
hands placed by their sides, fingers spread
open. They have both been lying still, one
of them desperately trying to fall asleep, the
other measuring the distance between their
fingertips, waiting until the humidity becomes
too wet, the fire on the skin too near; waiting
until this moment to turn on the bedside lamp.
Deciding finally, to honor this kind of arousal
with something other than breath.
— Sarah Kay, (India Trio)
(Source: 52hearts)
