THIS IS WHERE YOU LIVED

Originally published in Velvet Tail

 

I like me best at early morning,
from the patio at dawn.
Out of bed before you.

Let me make you coffee.
Come follow me to the kitchen.
I'll rub the sleep from your face.

Drape your naked shoulders on me.
Look at that morning.
This snow. Those trees.
How light. How your mouth.
Your slunk body. My sleepless hair.
Our patio.

I like early morning. I like it with you.
How can sunlight. How do those trees.
How much this day.
I am sorry for this early.

Be a daybreak with me.
Let me hold your body.
Let me kiss your face.
Everything is your face.
Everything is always.

I am a morning.
You are a prayer.
Take this mug, take this day,
take this sun.

I have made coffee.
I am buttering toast.
You are the bread
and the knife.
We are the rustling of trees.

I am awake. It is early.
You are in the kitchen.
The dogs are in the yard.
The snow is on the roof.

I am touching your arm.
You are touching this sunrise.
It is early. You are here.