The Covers Poem by Gary Diamond

There are lots of covers.

Ones that contain a book or set of poetry, for a start.
Another would be a new version of a once-great song, for second, and often ruined at that.
Thirdly there is the cover story, used by those who love to deceive.
Forth is covering your nudity when you're that way inclined.
And fifth and best of all, are the covers upon your bed.

Aren't they warm?
I like them best when they're pulled up tight.
When the world outside your window is so cold
That the windows have condensation on them.

Aren't they pretty, sometimes?
All the little patterns and flecks of colour.
When I wrap up in them, it feels good.
When I'm too drunk to stand
My eyes follow the patterns around.

Don't they smell good?
I like them best when they're fresh out of the dryer.
Or if they've been on there for weeks and smell like you.
The smell of last nights sex.
The smell of a good hard screw.

No matter how long I spend in bed, under those covers.
I always feel I could have used ten minutes more
When I finally get out from under them.