Joyce

14

Procrastination

Checkered pages and ticking hands,
Innocent until my eyelashes
Unravel like
A butterfly’s unfurling wing.

The blinds keep the sun’s secret.

Wrapped in my 300-thread-count cocoon,
Tooth meets lip, a reminder
Never to sneak a glance through
A million-mile pane of starshine glass.

The sun runs his race;
Better not to ask today’s new record
So silk skin can kiss
Sweet rose sheets
A few minutes longer.

The sun and I
Wade knee-deep
Through a heat-shimmer divorce.
With every X-marked box,
His stride lengthens and his pace quickens.

I simply go through the motions.

When the sun (inevitably) abandons me
I scrawl words in ink,
Promises that tomorrow
My feet will fly with his.

A black slash halves another box.