i am drunk on morning and having slept all night with you

it could have been hours, laying there, you flat
and i, curled to the side, with my head sunk in 
the cradle of your abdomen
i focused on my back
where the dog fit his tapered feet into the nook made
and gnawed his bone and smashed against me
breaking bits off with his teeth
until we three were the sand left 
in a basin after a day at the beach

time spoke twice:

once, to let us know that it was tired

of beating out the line and plane we force on it

and again, when it passed back in

through our muscles when we stood up

rooms open within me
but i am lodged here;
in tangerine and viridian, couch and window
you asleep down the hall, likely dreaming 
(i am drunk on morning and having slept all night with you)
there, i  have read the future
how does it go?