I always sleep like I’m dead. The night washes over me, a powerful wave. I’m pulled under and then I’m gone, blotted out until the alarm or the sun wakes me. I hold onto the girl I love as I’m swept away but always in the morning I’m empty handed. Her sleep so fitful, mine like an anchor around my chest, the rope piercing our bed, the floor, taut all the way down to the middle of everything. To the place where I’m not.
You sleep with your fingers coiled around
the handle of a loaded musket. I sleep
with my hands coiled over your breasts.
You tell me I need to keep a weapon close
in case of mutiny, in case of boarding, in case
the lookout is caught off guard.
I tell you I am a light sleeper,
good watch dog. I will wake you
at the first sign of trouble and you will protect me.
-from “What it is Like to Be a Woman Pirate” by Keely Hyslop
lots of walking and snacking
kayaking, 1 hr
driving all over
dance party, 30 min
comfy old tee shirt
open window, cold night
Bake for at least 8 hours under down comforter. Cool before serving.