My love is asleep.
He says he does not dream,
but his supple lids tremble.
I study his face for expression.
Shifting, he grumbles and smiles,
his searching hands find me close,
pull me in, only then is he still.
I stroke his hair, kiss his shoulder,
tickled, he swipes at me.
I laugh. He is funny even at this distance.
Timeless at my side, he seems heavy.
I am a tiny planet, heavy too, and serious.
I love you in the language of the world:
silent gravity.