Where The Light Hides Poem by R. H. McBride

Sun sky lights paw at the glass morning,
Your pillow sticks its tongue at me in your absence,
My phone throws colorful lies of schedule,
I should not awaken to electric castration.
But it is not my alarm rousing me to busy body,
It is a folded voice screeching, claiming me,
Declaring matriarchal rule, phantom boot on my tongue,
I pack away the thing I call my mom,
Silencing her dirty dishes and demands,
Turning off her garbage bags of distant lands,
Where are you?
This is no way to wake up.
Your sheets spell a love note,
A clue I must follow,
Charging my socks across carpet fields,
I brace for the shocking bones of the door knob,
A head on a stick that I must overtake.
But the thunder is silent and my ring finger is safe.
I dial to you in non-light,
Have you gone far, far away?
I hear your slumpy greeting through the phone
And you're just around the corner
The couch!
What are you doing here, sleepy lady?
I wrap my chest around your cheek
And let my breath sail away
The kicking awoke you, you tell me
Your moon washed smile settles me
You worry about waking me, you tell me
I turn off my singing phone,
I'm going to wake at some point, I tell you
I hold my hand on your belly and feel my son tap his foot expectantly,
My eyes unravel over you as the sun tips into day,
You are the real,
You are the only waking I have wanted.