by Kristen Walsh
Despite my smaller stature
I sleep behind you.
I hold you through the night
And into the dawn.
In the bright moonlight
I study your jaw.
Your soft snores remind me
You’re in another place.
I’m unwilling to be embraced,
Afraid of being held.
Sleep evades me,
I’m in overdrive.
I down a couple pills,
I pretend I’m there —
You hold her now,
Our winter has passed.
You study her features,
Her shoulders and her hair.
Her small frame
Fits against your bare chest.
She is not claustrophobic,
She is not afraid of your snare.
She does not lie awake
While you drift someplace else.
She follows you there,
Somewhere deeper, embraced by spring.
I dream alone, caught in cold February air.
