Morning Limbs

alarms chime in unison, 8:30, 9, 9:30am
yours a rock and roll song,
mine always that slow folk song.
my room is a bat cave—
this small box of sunlight
lets in seldom rays, not enough
to reach our faces.
peach and yellow skies pass us by.
the air in the room is hot for you,
It doesn’t bother me.
not when I remember the unbearable humid summers
from back home.
you kick off the sheets, the
comforter always found at the end of the bed.
I reach for a corner of the sheet to pull over
my naked legs.
my slight movement disrupts your melodic snoring,
you reach over, grasp
my breast hanging out of my stretched out shirt, and
cling to it like a child,
as if it were a safety blanket.
you spoon me with a tattooed arm, your
firm bicycle legs tangled in mine.
I turn towards you, my cheek
rubbing against the beard you wish would grow in thicker.
our skin is beginning to stick, as
I curl my lazy limbs into yours,
your breath is sweet and slightly sour.
I kiss you and you kiss back lazily as if
you were kissing me in a dream—
not fully aware of where you are.
I watch your face, your eyelids,
try to identify what I’m seeing.
I look for love, wonder if this morning is the morning
I’ll find it.
I want to get up and make coffee,
but you’ll feel abandoned.
you want morning sex, but
I’ll have to be the one to make the move..
I’ll arouse you and think of nothing really,
my mind kind of lost in space, eyes
closed, constellations suspended behind my eyelids
like planets hanging from a crafted mobile.

and we’ll fuck the same way—
you frustrated that I’m not kinky enough,
me disheartened over our lack of chemistry,
my mind still in outer space with the stars, eyes closed.
I’ll breathe with my mouth open,
you’ll roll on top of me and fuck with hard thrusts,
and I’ll be patient, my mind
still in outer space, connecting
the dots to form new constellations—
the tiger’s eye, the lion’s mane,
the doe’s heart.
I’ll feel the sweat beading down your back and want to
find your eyes but am afraid to lock your gaze for fear
that I’ll see nothing beyond it.

 

 

Ashley Warren

About Ashley Warren

You can find Ashley Warren's work in The Full Moon Poetry Society (a poetry blog), which includes an award for 2nd best poem of 2011. She also a poem published in Minneapolis’ Southwest Journal and have a short story published in The Cynic (an online literary magazine). She lives in San Francisco.
Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.