shriven

somewhere, a window is open.
by the time you realize you know this
because the rain is clear in the air outside,
you are taken by the sound of her breath.

inches from the wall, she faces the room,
and you only incidentally, in her sleep
nothing more than an obstacle sharing the bed,
something to keep her from rolling onto the floor.

in quiet, she wears nothing so well,
and just looking at her you know
her skin would be hot, were you to touch it, but don’t,
only a kiss hoping she’ll wake up, but knowing she won’t.