she will realize

perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow
she will realize.
perhaps yesterday.
you thought of it this morning.
your fingers trace your forehead's creases
warm, yellow, velvet creases.
don't startle her.
perhaps she will sleep one night
with love-glazed eyes
and the morning will bring
unsatisfied bliss.
she stares straight ahead.
black, black eyelashes
blacker, blacker eyes.
her fists clench in heartache
or exasperation and you remember
that sometimes when your boat
docks in dry sand
and her head tilts satiricially
or in adoration
you must be content only to remember
that you love her,
and that is enough.