Waking

I am all nightfulness,
not yet me,
smoke wafting up out of a dream.
I have not come to myself yet,
my arms beside me
like two warm animals,
and two legs crawling up out of blackness
to join me.
My mind has not come to me yet,
nor the room, or the light,
or the universe.
Before I think of thinking,
of troubling myself with thought

you love me.

This alone wakens me.