We sleep entangled, like children,
unwatched. No angels stand over us.
You wear my sweater; I, your scent;
we don blank, silent masks and step
sideways into dreams.
I wake to your breath, as even as
tide. Your lips part in dumb absence;
white eyelids shift. I ease back and down
into the mattress, enshroud us, press into
your warmth.
Outside, winter wind and moonlight
fade trees and the street. My legs twist around
yours; foreheads brush; our hands meet.
Your skin warms me; you breathe my breath—
our hearts, beating.
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