Come in I tell the fleas
opening my legs
it’s time to make a movie
on this first day of winter in my bed
white worms of cellulite
and half a glass of warm red wine
freshly showered
pink scum between the tiles
sunbeam floats particulates of skin
part of me in bed
and part of me on my credit card
lost like a meteor in the black hole lens
lost in the middle
of viral interdependence
can you move faster I ask the fleas
I don’t want to lose the light
I am not in exile
I must tell myself I have time
and then eradicate my apprehensions
the fleas swell and swallow me
and you too
in the moment you come
to me I ask you
why should we be different
than detectives
in a novel by my bed
stiffs discovered in a forest  

love is not a punishment
sometimes I forget and have a laugh
I open my heart like a scab
one day there won’t be any winter
through the lens the light bends
to a single point

Sara Wainscott is the author of Insecurity System (Persea 2020), winner of the Lexi Rudnitsky First Book Prize. She lives outside Chicago.