In the tiny hours
sleep’s lost rhythm is what I seek.
some kind of beat
a tick to match her tock
Her inhalations mirrored
I wait to conceive the world
behind eyelid curtains.
The breath of the sleeping too deep
to be matched by a mind so awake.
Words gnaw without clarity.
Now at the computer thoughts drift back
to her warm body under cool sheets
the curve of her spine
as it arches into her hips.
Her shoulders kissed by moonlight.
The charge her skin gives
so freely to my current.
My eyes close heavy with want
to watch her sleep,
or feel the push and pull of her breath
warm on my neck, as we lie together
on sheets full with lavender’s scent.