Sex | The Poetry Foundation

Frequently I have wet dreams

with my enemies,

wake up as if I’d just come out of a war,

squeeze my damp thighs in bed

to savor pleasure a little bit more.

And as those dreams recur

I spend my days examining the matter,

following their news,

searching for photos of their wives,

their new cars,

their ceaseless projects,

before I spot them at some crucial moment

crossing the street,

sending me looks or looking away

and hurrying.

Should I hide my face

in my husband’s jacket

or behind my children's orange stroller?

This is enmity:

it affords us the luxury

of being forgotten,

though like pleasure

it never forgets us.

Source: You Can Be the Last Leaf Selected Poems (Milkweed Editions, 2022)