O Second-Story Man, I am a thief
in love. Who else to launder the cat-suit?
I've stolen the gap from your teeth, the sweet
from your iced tea. Take me as a thief's wife.
I spin the stars on night's black dial. Open
sesame. Church-wedding. High sirens sing
recessional. Silver candlesticks singe
my skin. Wanted: sticky-fingered au pair.
Oh, all make-believe for me to mumble
under my breath as I swing through sky-light,
upper window left unlatched. I'm nimble
alone but for Thai carry-out and loot.
Don't flirt, don't kiss me on the forehead, please.
I'll dream your bed sheets are the softest fleece.

Copyright © 2006 Susan Goslee All rights reserved
from Northwest Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission