I am a duet with you

and tripled with you.

A wife in the corner

and you in the corner

beginning.

…

What grabs me is her ankle

caught from under the bedsheet

in my grip.

She can suggest a movement but cannot make it,

I can hold this near

miss but she can bear it.

…

Walking into the bedroom,

“of course there is no chair in here

and where will I sleep”

and what will I build.

…

He calls her with the same sound

as he calls into his sleep,

she cuts away his excess

sound at night.

…

He has made her children round

enough to seal them

in his house, they fit there

and she is in the garden.

…

This shape is scarce

because it is hers.

She is an updraft and caught.

…

She would heave under you

the same way with red hair

and blank fingers.

She would heave under you

and ask you to spell her

out of this.

…

I am waiting in the parlor for you

I am waiting to make you wife

…

If this is not her mark, where do her feet fall

where will she sleep that can make a mark.

As my soaped hands would show you

I am ready to cut

her image sleeps against every surface

she can press.mysleep.

I have mistaken you for foliage.(again)

---

Anne Heide edits the journal CAB/NET out of Denver. Her poetry has recently appeared or is forthcoming in Coconut, Octopus, Ur Vox, and the tiny, among others. She is currently working towards a doctorate in English and Creative Writing at the University of Denver.