Carrie Greenlaw

Dog star rising and
the bedroom is awash
in the anesthetic of July nights.

Naked, I sink in the parabola
of half-sleep, sweating
wrinkles into limp sheets.

His shadow appears
in the open door
and gropes towards the bed,
silence rotating in the space
between our heatstruck skin.

He leans over me, hand
on my arm as I turn,
breasts shifting
as if sleepily listening

and he says
the house across the street
is on fire.

I rise, naked as a stone
to peer through the curtains.

Carrie Greenlaw is a poet and artist residing on the North Side of Pittsburgh. Her work has been featured in The Pittsburgh Poetry Review, River & South Review, Masque & Spectacle and several upcoming publications. She believes in living low and living slow.

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