I am curled up in bed, reading
against his chest, and I must have
made some noise because he asks
what’s up.

That triggers a flood
of words — the book is full of
relationship stuff, and it’s good
but also making me think about things,
and I’m a little frustrated with
a friend situation, and we really need
to get the kids eating better; I want
to spend more time with them
the next few months, since I’ve been

travelling for work so much lately…

His fingers run through my hair,
slide over my skin, soothing,
the way we might pet the dog,
or the cat, not saying much,
just offering the comfort of one
warm body against another,
until I have quieted down again,

and go back to my book.

My fretty words
like raindrops pattering
against the windows

of a well-built house.


March 25, 2023

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