Nude, smoking, in the dawn doorway
he stands, or
leans against
the door frame, light spills
around him, haloing
as he moons me. The husband,
inhales smoke,
exhales smoke,
takes deep breaths
surveys his terraced territory:
newly-cut trees,
soil awaiting seeding.
Nude reclined,
I watch these in-between hours,
neither bed nor
morning. We reject time,
make our own
routines. Days and nights
punctuated by this: the flare
of a lighter, the nude
smoking, in the kitchen
doorway. The taking
of deep breaths:
surveying.
Susie Wild is the author of Better Houses, The Art of Contraception, and Arrivals. She has recently published poems with Poetry Wales and The Atlanta Review. Her second collection of poetry, Windfalls is forthcoming from Parthian. https://susiewild.blogspot.com/