Synonyms: the Lovers Sleep | Anna B. Wilkes

same concept, different mouth 

the way bed and bruise are identical

when you swallow the tongue deeply 

there is only one definition 

bruise— (n) the ripe pits 

left by your limbs flinging as you sleep 

when you’ve slid into the purely 

autonomic — not here 

your toes, sheeted and sharp, 

kick cherries that blush up 

the backs of my knees 

something in me swells 

until it pours out the window 

at night, I push my hand 

into your ribs to feel you breathe 

bed— (n) the limbs fling the ripe 

into the purely autonomic pit 

of not here — God, not this 

my skin sheeted by your blushing cherries,

the windows in me swell 

at night, I listen to you breathe through

your swallowed tongue 

bruise — (v) to stare 

the form is the same— 

bed — (v) to turn 

the same form is —

Anna B. Wilkes is a bi poet who co-runs a small farm in Monticello, Florida. She earned her MFA in poetry from Rutgers University-Newark, and her BA in English from the University of Tennessee. Her work has appeared in Stirring: A Literary Collection, Luna Luna, Apogee, and elsewhere.