Morning (love sonnet xxvii) (feat. sting)

Naked you are simple as one of your hands
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round.
You?ve moon-lines, apple pathways
Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba
you?ve vines and stars in your hair.
Naked you are spacious and yellow
as summer in a golden church.

Naked you are tiny as one of your nails
curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born,
and you withdraw to the underground world.

As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores
your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
and becomes a naked hand again.