A Poem in the Before Choice Disturbs collection

Without Turning

Without turning:

"Oh -- by the way, when we went upstairs
last night and made love on the pastel sheets,
and the air hummed with pleasure,
or maybe it just vibrated with the rusted air conditioner,
I might have said some things,
about lips and love and sincerity,
and I just wanted to make it clear that
I meant every syllable and sound cluster.
Won't you stay through the dusklight?"

Spinning, blurting, to the smooth sheet side
Of an empty bed.