your cartography

the sun slips past the shade

to paint planes of light and shadow

across sleeping face.


fingertips, a protractor

measuring angles of jawline

of cheekbone

of curve under bottom lip


while navigating blindly

the labyrinth of heart

and I thought of you

the sun breaking through the morning mist
gilded the mountaintop
much like the moonlight dusted
your cheekbones liquid silver
the last time we kissed