THE WAY WE LOVE

 

I edited in a cube all day.

Went to yoga at lunch

to escape the post-its

a million e-mails

and other

hyphenations.

 

It’s dark when I get home.

I switch on the fire.

Get wool socks.

I see you haven’t made the bed.

 

One pillow is flat and bowed,

the other accordioned into the first

where it curves.

The comforter—

our linens—

spread out like frosting.

 

Ah, yes,

this morning.

I long to hear

your key in the lock.

Mary Harpin is a poet and health writer in Minneapolis. Mary received a Prairie Poetry prize in 2007, and the Tom Collins House emerging writer's award in 2008. Her work has appeared in Dos Passos Review, Bellowing Ark, Confluence and elsewhere.