As virgin snow in a clear winter night
her skin glows against the shadows of our room
waving sand dunes the tidal wind deposits on our bed
carving hills and valleys on the moonlit landscape
echoing fiery depths and icy peaks

My wife rests as the night sticks her breezy hand
through the half open window
to caress her body.

I stare fascinated
perfectly lonely by her side
She has no eyes for me.
She sleeps.
She is gone

I receive her with overwhelming gratitude
when she returns to wrap her legs around mine
I love her most when she makes me hate myself.