All my uncles

It is the privilege of youth
and an almost hairless body
that I invite old men
anywhere near my bed.

We sleep top-tails,
mostly, but sometimes spoons.
Mind you, I make them keep
their World War II coats on.

It is toe-tapping good:
the accidental harmony
of their sinus hatches.
I'm a whistler, most mornings

when the old men are groggy
and quiet. They look around
as if they don't know
where they are.