Sometime After Midnight
Sometime after midnight
I woke with my hand curled
into a fist resting against
your arm, caught in the sleepy
glow of the streetlight shining
through your bedroom window
and could not help but stare
at the art beneath your skin,
as beautiful and shadowy
as an e-minor chord.
Your lips are parted and dry
from our kissing; they channel
your breath as you sleep.
Only hours before, I held
them between my teeth
gently as one holds
a child in their arms.
I catch sight of your belly
button – a sure sign of your
mortality – reminding me
that you are not a dream
or a God or permanent.
You are just a man
and I am just a woman.
We are just a man
and a woman leaving
invisible teeth marks
on one anothers lips;
we are just a man
and a woman lying
naked together.
We are just a man
and a woman, almost
as temporary separate
as we are together.
