Watching Waking

First melon-tinged light sneaks past

blinds slats and finds you

squinting one reluctant eye open.

Your gold-flecked iris unfurls

like a clenched bud drinking in dawn,

and I breakfast beneath

the vastness of your lashes.

Tiring of daybreak, the sun threatens

to explode our bed; I draw heavy curtains

closed so I can understand

a big bang as it balloons

from the gravity of your pupil—

my universe perpetually expanding.

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