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Talking in the Dark

I can only see the moon
from this one angle.
 
You put your mouth
close to my ankle. I wonder
 
if the neighbors, windows open
across the driveway, heard me coming.
 
Did you notice I washed my sheets?

 
*
 

I know a bird in your left ribcage.
It deepens your neck-pulse as you sleep.
 
I was hoping you’d see me
in my blue underwear. Tell me
 
what do you call
that sycamore leaf we tracked in,
 
the one that quakes on the floor?
 

*

 
Little dear.
 
When I pushed you
against the bedroom door
 
you knocked down Frida’s dress of arrows.
I didn’t say you could do that.
 
 
 

Corinne A. Schneider writes anti-love poems like professionally. She has her MFA in creative writing from Hunter College in New York City. Corinne grew up in Michigan.