Worker’s Aubade || Devin Sharp

Beside me you stir, sigh as you stretch.

Outside, clouds roll past

like your breath, crossing the sky

between my shoulders.

I’ve got places to be, but there’s 

still a little time, so I

settle into the heaven of your skin

against mine.


A phone buzzes, threatens

the moment so fragile, so rare.

When we come back to life

you’ll get on your way

and I’ll survive the long week

by the smell of you

on my pillow. I work hard,

so there’s no harm

in being late for work today. Quietly

at peace, we go back to sleep,

pretending like we’re dead.


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