His complexion is dark
even more so in the dimness of the night
A smooth polished ebony
what little light there is
playing on the curve and contours
of his wide shoulders
          broad back
               long thighs
                    knobby knees

I know I should have been asleep long ago
          I can’t
there is such a screwball perfectness
to his form in sleep
marred only by
          scars collected over the years
               each one a separate story
                    each one a separate delight

He turns in is sleep and reaches out
I move just close enough to lay within
His reach
his hand slowly slides down my arm
          from the shoulder to the elbow
               to the hand to the fingers resting on
                    my hip and thigh searching

For something
          even he doesn’t realize
               that he’s looking for
I smile to myself
and nuzzle close to him
          feeling him
               smelling him
silently whispering
          I’m here
               right here
                    right next to you

And finally having found
          the something
               only his sleeping soul can find
his hand relaxes
and I feel his body
          go deeper into the sleep
               he never woke from
                    and finally I join him


Thursday Poets Rally Week 68 (May 17-May 23, 2012)

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