Thursday, August 12, 2010

five a.m.

this depth of dark
could almost be night-

the suns about to crack
my sweet, my love
of the unfurrowed brow of
the dreamful sleep,

the world outside
is a hazy wilderness,
dew spattered frayed unwindings
of sunny summer string;

your warm face pillowpressed and
sleepdamp breeches
the waking surface
of the placid velvet waters, and

sinks back silently beneath them.

im a criminal
for even wanting to wake you.

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