All night we turn
into each other’s arms
between dreams,
readjusting our bellies,
our backs, our toes
so they touch each other
lightly. Not the fumbling
of the newly met,
but the tenderness
of the long married,
we who know the
other’s body—all
the angles and softnesses,
all the positions where we
gently fit if only we bend an elbow
just so, if only we move
our leg just here—
how easy it is
to bend together
through darkness, how
beautiful to find you,
to be found.