"guard down, socks out"

You sleep
as unselfconscious as you pretend to be when you’re awake,
one knee bent,
one grubby-socked foot sticking out from the small soft blanket
draped over you.
Your hand twitches,
it is long and tan and knobbly-knuckled.

You sleep
more loudly than I write this poem,
the metronome of your breathing steady.
You are unaware, and
undemanding.
Light settles over the angled planes of your face,
soft curls follow suit, tussled on your forehead.