I wake up in the night and look at you
while you sleep;
if you can paint you will be master,
but now you are masterpiece.
I am watching your back
with the baby’s wrinkles
and that thing that you call hair and I call
how it falls down on your white neck-line
and you are silent in the white sheets,
I imagine them yellow,
my favorite color,
(Van Gogh’s too),
you breathe slowly and lightly like a swan in the lake,
and I count all the inhalations and exhalations,
I count 537 and
don’t wake up.
--Peycho Kanev has been writing poetry for the past 10 years. His poems have appeared in more than 400 literary magazines. He is nominated for the Pushcart Award and lives in Chicago. His new poetry collection “Bone Silence” was released in September 2010 by Desperanto, NY.