In bed on my birthday

Cove

In bed on my birthday
I stretch out my wrists and twist,
my armpit coves need cleaning
my ex boyfriends, got my back,
my head holds the pillow like a hat.
The birds outside want breakfast
so I tum tum to them
that there are table tops waiting
for shit bombs,
wide waisted trees
lilting like ladies that want some love
that the light might benefit from more friction
so fly higher and flack their wing tips back,
more like film clappers signalling
that if the light likes, the day can start from scratch.