Alone in my Bed in the Morning -or- When the Silhouette goes Missing

Alone in my Bed in the Morning
-or-
When the Silhouette goes Missing

When I woke up in the morning
and found God was no longer in my bed-
I retreated back to sleep.

He left in the morning, quietly,
coming only for the night to slumber
since I invited him in my prayers.

Who knew he'd come and listen
and press his back against mine?
If I turned around
what would I have seen?


Oh, I laid there silently;
a cool touch on my side
and a nimble finger on my brow.


He ran his fingers through my hair
all nerves spiking- sharping- cutting- tickling defeat.
And I, I pretended sternly to be asleep.
What would I say if he knew I could speak?

But now in the morning all I can remember
is a strange mounting calm
and the feeling of stimulation all through my side.

It was as if a mist had shifted me:
filled my lungs
and crushed them
and held my heart
pumping it faster
blood taking the lives of nerves
and nerves dying at sensation.

Oh love of Mary,
you were with me too
and pressed your belly against me:
alive with possibility
and life.

And God you left me in the morning,
dried skin, and moist eyes, and crusted mouth
where I felt the silver of the kissed cross.

I drink a glass of water
clear not to wash the taste away
but in hopes of keeping it in me forever.

And after awakening from my morning dream,
pondering the day,
wonder if I pray again,
will my back feel
cool pressure press the same way-

-Matthew Koutzun