Heavy weighted blanket, legs half-out, rain against the window,
you whispered, “what if it gets old? what if you get bored
with me?”
“It won’t and I won’t,” I said.
“But if.”
“If?”
The smell of warm linen, chest swelling
like infatuation.
Oh honey, it would be a blessing
to grow old and bored with you
(just to be with you),
and should there be a loss of love
(I write love but mean passion, puppy-love)
in the years to come—
no wild nights into sleepless mornings, no constant hand-on-thigh,
no attentive eyes, no planned dates—
I would learn it again,
remind myself, reread my letters,
grow curious afresh,
in body, soul, and mind,
in duty and promise,
in decision and action,
even in dry periods with no joy,
Love you.
Alexandra T. O. Cooley is a poet and graduate student from Alabama. She is currently a pursuing an MA in English from Jacksonville State University and hopes to pursue an MFA in creative writing after graduating. She loves making lists, petting animals, and planning vacations with her husband, James.
