Thursday, July 24, 2014

like sleep

It hurts to see you sleep.
body crumpled on the armchair, 
or collapsed on the couch: 
drooling, snoring, rag doll.  

Sometimes you just nod off
beside me in the car, 
or your face just falls to your plate 
at dinner, before I catch you.

You say it's work, it's worry, it's
running the house.  Money.  
You say that you need a year off,
to catch up with everything

like sleep.


-dp-    
7-24-12