ROOST

chicken in the roasting pan,
five minutes from perfect

when you come home from work,
folding me in from behind

we fly to bed; we nest,
skydiving onto comforter

warm down of each other,
gliding to a safe landing

but the smoke alarm protests:
the poultry—is post-roasted.

we get up, inspect the bird,
perfectly burnt

then oven placated,
we return to roost

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