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I am not used to having the bed to myself,

anymore, it usually is two heavy-weight boxers

battling it our for more legroom,

or sometimes, I use my experience of shoving

previous lovers over and push.

But, now, it is an empty bed,

I flail about, my hands don’t have to be removed

from under your neck,

and my nostrils aren’t tickled by your smell,

and though, like a mist-wrapped morning,

I’m cocooned in your snoring,

My nights are now spent wishing the fan

was less vocal, that the shuffling feet

of the neighbours on the floor above would stop,

that the boys on the corner attempting

to smoke their first joint would find another place

to experiment, and the Alsatian next door would stop

barking at the pink light.

Meanwhile, you who are not used to me,

probably yawning, are snoring,

posting your final tweet for the night,

but pause a moment in bed,

the blanket gives too easily to your pull.

Joshua Muyiwa/PAB 31st July 2010

(http://joshuamuyiwa.tumblr.com/)