Love Poem in a Failed State

Some mornings
when I am
just a typo
in pajamas
and the rain
is the thick
black eyeliner
around
an unseen sun,
the glimpse
of your left eye
opening under
the blankets
is enough
of a welcome
to flip the bird
to despair,
to allow myself
to feel each
one of my fingers
wiggling itself
awake.