Silent all these nights the dust breathes.
Beneath string lights and window triangles

a few hours before sunrise. Why wait so long
to change nothing but the thermostat? We are cold

under covers not touching each other. Our mouths
the dust breathes. In your bed beneath string lights

minutes before sunrise. The world outside a purple
lip. Everything the light touches, chaps.

(originally published in The Oddville Press, Summer 2020)