He wakes me at dawn. Look.
Out the window: snow.

The room full
with the mottled shadows
of last night's quiet fight,

our hearts slapping up armaments
(easy, quick)
and dismantling them again
(slow, careful)
over and over and
again and again until
we collapse into sleep. Still

our bodies curl together seamlessly.

All day now the snow,
slowly burying
the dead grass and fallen leaves.