Sleeping alone by May Swenson

Sleeping alone

Waiting for first light,

for the lift of the curtain,

for the world to ripen,

tumbling toward the sun,

I lie on my side,

head sunk in the pillow,

legs upfolded,

as if for Indian burial.

My arms are friends

relaxed beside each other.

One hand, open, touches,

brings warmth to the other.