written in the morning, honeymoon in alaska

A first draft I wrote in the foggy early-morning of our honeymoon in Alaska:

There is nothing left between us but

battered pillows and fallen punctuation.

We can find our way down the hallway,

made new, see where the poem

will take us. The truth is, we haven't

fought, but our pillows are wasted

and the punctuation I speak of

is the comma of your shoulder, the

pause before you murmur in the dark

of the cabin, "Two black bears," and

behind the orange curtain is Alaska,

glaciers so compact the only color left

is blue, and inside the curtain

is the honeymoon, hungry and awake.