“I said you could snuggle. That doesn’t mean/ your cold feet all over my dick”

Oh, Louise Gluck is so good, and intimacy is so funny and cruel and singular and wonderful and awful, and I was rereading this poem (“Anniversary“) yesterday:

I said you could snuggle. That doesn’t mean
your cold feet all over my dick.

Someone should teach you how to act in bed.
What I think is you should
keep your extremities to yourself.

Look what you did—
you made the cat move.

The short rest of it (“There’s a lot more where those feet came from”) at the Poetry Foundation.

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