Shaking Out The Soul

I shiver
and the body
that has become my temporary home
trembles awake
waiting for the lover to arrive,
to take hold of the corners
of the bed covers,
shake the soul free of night,
to curl his body
around me,
his arms encircling my ribs,
the place where my heart,
the mourning dove of desire coos,
waiting for this embrace,
waiting for the tremors
to break me,
to collapse at dawn around me
forcing me to walk the labyrinth,
to ask the question at the heart,
nearest the sun,
and to walk holding my hand
until the answer
comes like to Madonna,
laughs with the absurdity
of absolute love—
as sure as the morning breeze
shakes the soul
free of the cover of night,
white sheets
crisp and light
as everything truth
can possibly know.