Henry in the Morning

It was hard to determine
where I ended and he began.

There was a glint about the way

he held me – like a broken child;

tight embrace, glib insanity.

I tried to break free from his

confining frame, strong shoulders,

wrapped around my lower back.

Strange angle to wake up to,

all shriveled up inside.

I regretted the way I surrendered;

no fight, no thought, no shout.

But the way he thought he handled

me, himself, and us in the morning

told me he knew nothing of love.