I love the way you reach for me
when I slide out of bed – oh so quietly
to read, pee or surf because
insomnia is a perk of ageing
you’ve not yet claimed. I actually
like these quiet midnight moments
though soon enough I’ll miss you
crawl beneath the covers
cuddle close, match my breath to yours
thinking nobody’s skin has ever felt so
permeable; hand melds to hand
cheek to cheek in such sweet intimacy
my heart almost stops, sometimes
I worry your heart has stopped
and shove a little, move the pillows
till you twitch, calming my fears
so I can doze my way toward morning.
A car door slams.
“where’s my darling?”
from the foot of the steps.
I run downstairs
assume the position –
standing onto the final tread
we’re almost at eye level –
I throw my arms around your neck.
“Welcome home,” I say,