Morning by Justin Smith

The lamp’s dim glow sprawls over the mattress,
illuminating his splayed frame, covered
with smothering comforters, the bedsheets
and his lover’s arms wrapping him up in a
warm cocoon of skin cells and cotton.
The alarm clock rings loudly by the bed,
calling his fingers in search of the snooze,
moving them from his side, unfurled and limp;
the green sheets shifted off his boyfriend
curls up, cloistered in the corner,
breaking the embrace to find warmth alone.
Separately they lie: relaxed, undisturbed,
only moved by the cry of the alarm,
burying their ears, backs turned to each other.