Untucking

At night the breasts come out,
let down, reliable setting suns.
Or sinking moons.
The bodies come out altogether,
unfold along each other or the air,
and marriage becomes the bra,
the house the pants,
the body small within permitted nudity.

The breasts’ orbit is small.
They know the channels of air,
expect what current hits around 11:00.
Sometimes they mash the carpet
or watch as the sheets hover
against the husband’s back,
the view is white,
the air shakes.