Makura-Kotoba

Our coming together from far ends amazes us both, neither knowing the other was cowardly too, two years ago, now we confess it, laughing.

We joy in such presence my cynical dear: we are in love, knowing it usually passes with flowers and years— still honoring it.

On waking at four by your beautiful person I listened to your heavy breathing two hours with no wish to sleep: I refused to sleep.

With sun through shades at nine I woke again, saw the perfect flower of your ear on my inner arm, pressed into it. Celebrated quietly another hour.

Now we part with hot coffee and without grief planning, instead of tears, outrageous attacks on future years to keep our hearts as dry as wit whatever our eyes think of it.