First minutes of morning. You
about to call it a night, me
ready for another day. The birds
loud, echoes in the stillness
of not-yet-day. The neighbors'
shower water rumbling through walls
like half-heard promises. Our bodies
stiff—yours too long at the computer,
mine from deep sleep. We don't speak.
So it is a surprise to hear
your deep "please," lips
pressed to my ear, to feel
water and hands cascade
down my body.
Beverly Acuff
Momoi