His beautiful body sculpted around sheets 

next to mine in cotton thread  

As sunlight at dawn pierced

the contours of his frame

His bedroom slowly coming into being

through the rising of the sun

A single clothes hanger sits on the doorknob of his wardrobe

I notice three picture frames, their imagery gradually coming into light 

 

Out of frame

Outside the box,

feathers

 

fall

 

on cigarette ash

where the marks

Of love’s desire came and burnt

 

The softness and subtlety at which we

 

fall 

 

silently are disturbed by the noise 

Of us simultaneously asleep, letting off short bursts of laughter  as we navigate dreamland

 

And they continue to

 

fall

 

onto the back of his torso frame

Then tossed onto the floor full

Of feathers as we begin to awaken from our dreams.