The Many Methods of Moments

Clothes stacked like book pages obedient commanded coats hanging
in silent anticipation, the things you said silent uncomfortable soft
imperative the books in the closet implausible awaiting
all that there is and is not,
all
entitled

the sounds of the creaking desk chair when i sat by it
you
working so late,
hours, amounts and absolutes, I didn't know you existed,
thinking
this is how you understand a person.
then
wondering what's understanding for.

your hand reaching out for me in your sleep
its fingers warm its palm climbing over your waist to find me;
habits of
your body
all creating of love's concavity
thinking it all
so real
and then again
yet
so ready to drift
back to sleep.