It's Not The Bed That's a Boat
       

but our sleep. On a rumple
        of waves, two loosed canoes.

One night I'll find you
        in your wooden ribs.

I'll tie a rope. I'll climb on.

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Copyright © 2016 Corinna McClanahan Schroeder All rights reserved
from Inked
Texas Review Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission