Love and Socks 

You make love and
she keeps her socks on but
she takes her rings off because
her feet are cold and
your back is smooth and
she scratches with her nails, which is enough.

If a woman makes love to you with
open eyes watching your
open lips don’t be
frightened.
She’s counting the little breaths and
the big breaths and
wonders,
if they can be shared.

And perhaps when
she remembers how to breathe and
decides yours were sweet she’ll forget
her silver rings
in your bedsheets and you’ll
remember her socks.

And perhaps the next time when
the sun births the morning and
paints silver patterns on the ceiling from
the silver rings still in your bed she’ll
be there,
too,
and the socks will be on the floor and
the scratches will be on your back but
lighter,
sweeter.