When I wrote this poem, I worked days, and my husband worked nights. We barely saw each other. When I was awake, he was asleep, and vice versa. I jealously wrote this, watching him sleep one morning.
I want you to do me.
Do me like you do your pillow.
Let your spit fall on me.
Lay your head in it.
Bury your face in it.
When time is up, hit a button, and refuse to get out of it.
When one way ain’t working no more,
Flip me over and see how you can work it.
Leave traces of your DNA on me.
You ain’t did it right if your eyes ain’t sticky.
Your handprints should be embedded in me
As your face disappears like a magic trick.
Your 5’2” pillow should be your worse habit.
Call in to work ‘cuz being in it got just that good.
And when you’re exhausted of it, throw me against that wood.
Place me on top of you,
Whatever’s comfortable for you.
If the sun is bothering your eyes,
Let me ride your face until here comes the moon.
Wrap your legs around me,
Hum into me,
Make me take whatever form you want me to be.
Do whatever it is that you want with me
As long as you do me.
Do me like your pillow.