A word from a dream and then a poem composed in the shower's music, shaped the same way a lover's mouth may shape the lips it touches,
and the water a tumbling cleansing warmth, tasting
as sweet as a lover's kiss, sweeter than the rain.
Through the window the light curves around curtains open like a wing, and in the ink drying later on the page a new love insists on its release into the day like a new-born thing.