Your body is small
as a folded receipt
in a pocket
and he clings to it
like drowning
in a downy nightgown.
he believes
he is wrapping you
in silk so smooth
you can forget
his rutting crotch
like a hog come to water. you
are impassive;
you look at the ceiling
and watch lines going over,
like a web in a crack.
spit dribbles on your neck
and he gets at your shoulder with his tongue
and your leg with his fingers
and you don’t like it
but are too
polite to say.
when he falls asleep
you get up quietly
and carefully piss without flushing.
you wash your small hands
and your teeth.
your blue glass feet
leaving heat
in blue patterns
on the tile.
DS Maolalai has been nominated four times for Best of the Net and three times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden (Encircle Press, 2016) and Sad Havoc Among the Birds (Turas Press, 2019)