The Absence of Wavelength

Stirred To Sleep, Perchance

When she foggily stirred and rose to meet my eyes,
she said,
'I love you'.
I said,
'you need to nap more often, my dear'.

just after she puts away her phone on the night stand,
before slumber,
she spools to my half of the bed,
still listening to me roll.
she’s lulled,
lids descend but haven’t reached the floor,
stay ajar,
as I take my cue to wish her a peaceful slumber.

but she insists,
continue.
Though, I know my next sentence is the last
that I will hear loudest, best,
repeating
until three a.m. like
a skipping record, because
I can’t finish that thought.

She takes all my rest.


7.4.21
22 lines, free verse

I won't explain, for a change.