Quick bang the screen door

off-leash creatures,

loosely woven, unwound

peels upon the counter

warm floors and the ease of every

free limb

How happy now for no

closed rooms, shut-in,

smeared across your surface,

no order to wait, wet

hand at my throat’s ribbon

The goodness of skin

without flare, mouth rubbed

red-raw, an agreement to hide

from all the real seasons