Sometimes it sounds like bones
hitting other bones. A fast gait,
a first-look at the morning
through half-lids and light
not pouring in so much as escaping
through the open bedroom window.
Sometimes it sounds like sand
pouring on sand. An expected thud,
water running in a garden outside
our window. Our room is too warm
and the heat doesn't escape through
the open bedroom window.
But here we are: Sometimes,when the darkness
shakes me out like a rug and I awake to
the sound of you living in sleep, I breathe
a sigh that stretches out over all the houses
like a moon.