The four walls of a room
momentarily
holding the ugliness of the world
at bay
enough to drink
until the dawn
the warmth of a body
pressed against my own
a few moments of living
wedged in
between the drudgery of mere existence
there is nothing else to ask for
the sound of her breathing
is all I need of poetry
I offer no explanation
no definition
for this last moment in time
I like the feeling of my hand
upon her belly
and that is enough.