a poem a day for a year #211

by Amy Turn Sharp


I dropped my skirt in the kitchen. It fell to the floor without a sound. I left a trail of clothing, a path from the hot, summer sun. I called you downstairs and you laughed at me for standing in front of the open freezer door. We giggled and shivered as you leaned into me. It's funny how uncomfortable we don't notice we are when we are kissing, how little we care of electric bills and responsibly when the animals inside of us wake and howl. When everything frozen just melts.