Commencement

Forever is a random affair, we’ve found,
so we will cling to where we land
as we are shaken out, scattered,
left to grin away sleep.
Tomorrow we will graduate.

Afraid to make an end
we will lie here, rumpled,
reading a bedtime story at dawn.
In the morning we will be rearranged.

Like bread your chest rises warm against my back,
hands tangled restless across my stomach.
We never have been this close,
never seen these eyes uncovered of glass,
those cheekbones like nearby hills.
There is no room to move,
but tonight we would rather sleep poorly
than alone.