When first I wake next to you,
in the last of the darkness,
I will lie quietly and watch
you sleep. It will occur to me
how thankful I am for my eyes.
I memorized the geography
of your body long ago,
before you knew how
near to fire you stood.
Were I blind, I would
read you out of the darkness
by my fingertips.
I would know you by
the curve from back to hip,
the sweep of neck to shoulder.
I would know.
I will lie quietly
in the first of the light
and watch you sleep,
the sun gathering praise
while you light the world.