A (mildly) erotic sonnet...

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FIRST AWAKE

To be first awake must be held so dearly
As not to be wasted. Examining
You now, my nerves peeled raw and quivering
Still from last night’s exertions, very nearly
Unhinges me. Propped up on bent elbows
I contemplate your form, how best to enter
You entirely, occupy your center
Unfolding instinct—dense, mysterious
As the furled velvet bud shaped underneath
The covers by your body’s soft, slimmest
Contradictions. Your torso, collapsed, thin
Is strangely inviting. I enter in
And carefully unfold your huddled breast
With gentle swellings of familiar breath.


February 1999