Those lovers’ stains
will soon coalesce
on the burgundy flannel
sheet like old Polaroids.
But they needn’t breathe on it,
timing the minutes. Their fixative
might just be the moonlight going
down across the tarred road.

*

In the turquoise Android photos
taken around the pool
last July, you can almost hear
a belly smacker but this one,
developing where they laid,
whimpers into the box springs: Oh
man. Oh God. And later: It feels
so cold. Let me stay
over on your side.

– Christopher Dungey