her breath

 

This poem, “her breath”, is still tangled, trying to work itself out.  Here are two stanzas:

 

I touch her in the night

when her breath is so quiet, it’s

almost

not there

I lay my hand on her belly

it rises

falls

 

she starts her sleep at her edge of the mattress

ends in the middle

programed to not cross that line

on her back

left side

her right

all on her side of the bed

she doesn’t give herself

permission

to crowd me

when she dreams

 

© 25 April 2021

Cindy B. Stevens

 

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