Headboard Hush

Eleven fifty-six
A madman tromps into our house
and shakes like a dog to free the snow from his hair.
With feigned stealth he mounts the stairs two and three at a time.
Down the hall at the open door he is greeted
with the sound of his maiden's relax-ed breaths.


Ah,
this daydream,
not of -day-
but of -dreams-
the sort that would conquer and ravish her harried mind.
White knuckled
and of similar countenance,
she flutes her practiced solo.

Innnn
Outttt
Innnn
Outttt


One
baritone sigh,
two overcast eyes,
and it's to the pillow with him.
He squirms, fidgets and jostles til the whole house complains aloud.
Then, in the sudden stillness,
he implodes
at learning what he already knew.


innnnouttttinnnnoutttt
She daren't shift or
snatch a scratch.
With a forearm over her eyes she imagines she's captive.
Pirates, probably.
Ohyes, indeed.
Pirates!
If she so much as moves or even sighs--


"Jenna." Her breath catches in the back of her throat like a fishing hook.
She swallows it.

"JENNA!"


...............................


Innnnnnnnnnnnnn
Outttttttttttttttttttt

He curls around her
like the first quarter moon
to its dark side
and worms through her hair til his nose finds scalp.


Her shallow exhale pulls her



farther