“What hath night to do with sleep?”
I can tell when you're having nightmares;
your breath changes, gets louder, you
shift your feet. Sometimes a bird will hit
the window, the lights turn themselves
on. Every so often an astronaut knocks
at the bedroom door, asks to come in.
I always refuse but gratefully. I know he
wouldn't be there unless you needed me
to rub your neck again, your shoulders,
say softly, It's OK, I'm here. You're safe.
No one expects you to float or discover
life on Venus. Sleep. Sleep. I’ve learned Continue reading