last night, while you were sleeping,
I was tip-toing around my mind.
dreams were coming and leaving.
I kept opening and closing my eyes.
five a.m., sunrise peeked
through the blinds. I rolled over
wrapped in your arms. heat
waved in between the window panes, like smouldering
hydrogen bombs. I yawned. I stretched. I scratched.
I sighed. I tried to splay out on my stomach. I turned,
curled up on my side. just as I felt a good snore hatch,
your cellphone alarm began to buzz. I lurched
awake, your eyes still shut. I switched it off.
your breath was soft.
jw 5/3/09 3:28 a.m.
No comments:
Post a Comment