write an aubade (a song from a door or window to a sleeping woman, a morning love song).

…

the land is quiet between us

for months we face this sun
growing impossibly hot indoors

she magics a canopy between our fields
demands we drag out the bed

i say the illogical rain will catch us
but she’s right
the wind is all night warm and soothing
we wake on this small and glittering earth
find ourselves shimmering skin

now i watch her from the station
dawn shift, in our conjured time

her thighs spread heavy on white,
my ink plume,
grav belt her only cover
wide and silver at her hips

there is no one so beautiful to me
in all the galaxies
though she won’t hear it

just last day
her warrior eyes on the horizon
she told me not to tell them we found this,
‘they are ruin’ she whispered

so. she thinks i am miraculous.

for me, here, she smiles
and even now, in her sleep,
with the loud sun between us
that sort of moonlight
brings me home