It is nearly one in the morning.

She has been asleep for hours in our bed.

Little hands tucked up under little ears.

I think it is not too many hours until she wakes again.

I stand and stretch

moving toward the stairs to join her.

But instead of passing you

I remove from your lap what distracts you and sit

straddling you as if I am the child.

My chin on your shoulder

My back hunched and relaxed under your hands.

I stay there unable to move.

Then I stand up.

Take off my pants.

You pull your pants off at my obviousness.

I sit back on you



saying nothing.

I look around the room.

It is filled with toys and shoes

the clutter of our decade together.

Of our lives in motion




A life that I cannot remember a time before.


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