I rest my dusky gaze on
the swan in the center of
the white bedspread.

The shuttered window
emits pieces of sunlight
on its plump breast.

You place a tray of rugged
coffee on the nightstand.
I inhale huskily.

After morning rituals,
we slip back inside
the warm-cotton oven.

Your crayon-green eyes
color outside the lines
of my daily incarnation.

And the swan drowns
between your knees
and mine.




�2007 by Yolanda Calderon-Horn