The sunbather — a meditation

All morning I watched
a thin arm
of sunlight
pick its path
between branches
until it finally
rested its warm fingers
on your leg.

Then I gazed
into the perspiration
glistening on your thighs
until I saw visions
of your future:
You have beautiful children.

And while you sunbathed,
I connected
all your moles
with invisible lines
then colored in
all the animals
it revealed on your skin.
And now that I’ve named
every freckle
on your face
I can get up
to fold the laundry.

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