Betsy Robin Schwartz

Your hand covered the hand

attached to the arm

that crossed your chest

monitoring your heartbeat

like a human electro-cardiogram.

The arch of a foot relaxed.

Your arm stretched to buoy the head

attached to the ears

that listened to the rale

of your breath rhthyms

like an old cat's evening purr.

The tension left both shoulders.

I did not know the shape or color of the moon,

I did not know the mimosas had folded their fronds,

because my eyes were already closed.