Sonnet (Husband) Poem by Yolanda CalderonHorn

I watched you shave at seven this morning.
A cushion of lather whitened your jaw.
The belly of March was engorged with spring,
and the lure of sleep no longer cajoled.
You tapped the razor on the stainless steel
in an open and close your eyes habit.
The blade muttered under your chin's rough heel.
The moment held me between its pursed lips.
Of our years, months and days paid in full,
the mortgaged hours, minutes and seconds,
less or more may not have brought me to cull
the mundane things cross-dressing as weapons.
I've loved you as I have since that first climb
from daylight's pitch to the notes of nighttime.