As another sleeps
this quiet is not the calm

of home. Here I worry
slumber shields him

from his longing to be
done, to leave—

we were both amazed
how bodies went on

wanting for so long.
And now his breathing

fills me with terror,
I am afraid to cough

or disturb the restful
sloughing. When will it

be enough, just
passion exhausted,

when will I be free
to sleep, to listen to a

body breathe without
second-guessing it?

Used by permission of the author.