Duvet Love

I see you Giovanni, frowning behind the Sunday paper.

Pages are scattered across the duvet that’s rumpled and crumpled

into the mountains and valleys of our private kingdom.

You tussle with the paper as you turn the page and

recount some story you’ve read. We shake our heads

in amazement, safe in our remote island bed.

You shift mountains as you wrap your long strong legs around

mine. You're warm like sun-baked rock. Above we’re quite apart

but below your feet stroke my feet as you reach for your tea.

Slowly, imperceptibly, we grow closer, first our elbows touch,

then shoulders, then I feel your stubble rough against my cheek.

How can something so bristly be so comforting?

Limbs entwined we fall under the soft valleys, asleep.

I see you now Giovanni, in your navy suit, running your hand

through your hair and swearing because you can’t find your keys.

You hurl me a kiss as you slam the door, a mountain lion roaring

off to catch his prey. I flatten our island hills but all day think of

Sunday Morning Duvet Love.