First Visitor

I know she’s there, 
outside the door. 

Dark shameless morning
wet and naked, 

calling for
her kiss.

Unless I go 
she will persist.

Will send sweet whistles 
through my window,
floating 
on the dewy fragrance of the night.

Or tease me 
with such tender shafts of light  
I can’t resist.

Or simply take me in her grip
as I protest unequal love:

(yet feel her warmth 
invading, as I slip
into surrender) 

It is not fair 
that I will die, 
and she will live forever.