There's a surreal air when you wake.
When I wake.
I can look through my veil,
Sewn and stitched and worn,
Like a brilliant waterfall
Against the cliff of mud,
And just from the light-

I can tell if the sun is out
Or not.

Then
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes
I regard you.
And your attention is warm
Like fresh blood against skin
Like a gentle touch
Like a warm bath.

The joke is:
I don't bathe much.

However,
You make me want to.


This is not a love poem
It's mere acknowledgement.
Because since I've awoken
I've been thinking
And only thinking
And really not much else
About the gray light this morning
That spoke of rain,
And the brilliant shine it shone
When they parted,
And this night I looked through panes
And spotted grating hairs of silver lining
And I knew it would rain.
And I had held your hand.
And I had not spoken to you.


I can only hope
My attention is warm as well.