you are a back boarding an airplane
the shadow planing off a profile

:  in worn shirts, the smell
of sweat sunk into cloth.

(slip out of me,
into sleep.

during the night, your arms
and legs migrate
to the far space of the bed,
untangle themselves from the knot
that keeps you earth-bound, next
to me.          good morning, good

a depression in the next pillow
fills with air
releasing your thoughts, the ones
you do not lend me, even
in sleep.

the phone crackles
and fades        ,
an empty hollow
after I shut it off:

Courtney Queeney
Copyright © 2001

Copyright © 2001 Richard Baumgart

Courtney Queeney graduated from Duke University, where she was Editor-in-Chief of the literary magazine The Archive, in May of 2000. She has taught English at The International School of Santo Domingo, in the Dominican Republic.

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