Going Steady
by Sarah Marchant
You sidle up behind me,
reaching to fix my ponytail
like the sound of the ice caps melting,
and everything about you is tenderness.
I'm talking burnt pasta and sinking
into the couch. The yellow embers
of cigarette ends and your hand
at the small of my back.
My toes curling over yours,
I'm humming my heartbeats to the tune
of that rickety fan whirring.
As the snow seeps into the earth,
your mouth is the apex of my enchantment
and even in the dark we keep blooming.
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