Postcards
A Glass of Morning Water
Stifling heat. A comforter falling from the sky.
The water in the air collapses
Long strings of tiny glass beads
Woven into soft, dark clouds.
The wind has blown the rain from its hanging place
Rotating wooden panels
Slicing wide sheets of air.
Water falling against glass panels.
Sweat condensing onto mine,
A cold drink touching a glass table
A wet rim the shape of the glass.
The smell of your water glazing onto my skin.
Postcard marked for Tuesday
On Sunday I fell asleep thinking about sleeping next to you.