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Good Morning

Even when the mornings are cold,
I enjoy watching you wake: I enjoy
your spine, its stretch and curve,
your arms reaching out so far
you might be trying to grasp the air
and pull it on for a shawl to clothe
your bare and goosebumped shoulders.

Your round mouth greets the world.

I enjoy your naked legs, heels to hips,
slinking out from tangled sheets,
across me, smooth and straddling
and then I enjoy watching you walk,
every morning, as if your small toes
are excited to touch the ground again
because they have been too long from it.

This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.
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