after Olga Broumas

I sleep, I sleep too long,
eyes gauzy as men hound my body
tired in the moment
when they shut eyes, I slip
out of their bed, into my clothes
too late, I wake in every sunless room

find the early morning dark, find the heart
breathless after, racing, shut the door to leave
their faces like cold water, swimming in my cheeks
too red, when her mouth gapes
toward mine as if to kiss
at the bar I laugh, I laugh too long

my voice sheer as her unveiling
when she looks me in the eye, she swears
she first found me beautiful
at sixteen reading Sexton
cross-legged on the bedroom floor
six years I’ve passed her over
holding hands too long

she holds her breath longer when I come
out into her bedroom, out of clothes, I wake
in her body’s frame like an open door

and after, breathless, heart racing
like a valve too open
we can’t close

our dreams, her ohm tattoo
her collarbone, our kiss,
her hips jut to my cheeks

humming red