in heaven

foreign hands guide us in
through a forest of overcoats,
bombers, sweaters and boots

a latch clicks amid a chorus
of giggles, and light spills from
the hallway onto our shoes

your breath is hot, lips chapped
you fumble from my cheek, over
my shirt, down to my hip then thighs

the button breathes in freedom,
the zipper too – cold fingers send shivers
up my spine, and the clock chimes

seven minutes