AUBADE

If I weren’tI’d like you better. If I could sleep—notlie waiting for your heavy eyes to blinkawake, for you to pull your covers taut.Golden light drips off blinds, shifting the sun-drawn topography lines across your sheets.You breathe soft snores to my throat, hold your thumb,middle finger, to my chin and the creasebeneath my earlobe like we have been caughtin the sameness of dreams. I want to partwith a half-conscious kiss goodbye and blotmy panties dry, but I wait ’til you startawake with groping hands—your tongue’s delight,hungry for this morning’s taste of last night.