Sunday, February 12

Homemade King

I lie in a bed that I made
by pushing two twins together
to form a king. I wait
for her to fill the other half.
Sometimes I sleep
on her side. If not, the sofa
swallows me up. In that place
I can hear his rumbling snores.
From a distance they form
comfortable repetition like waves
in an angry sea smacking against a dock.
My backbone aches when I sleep there,
away from my homemade king,
too many nights in a row.
Too many sleepless nights
away from her. I begin to wonder
if I have one.

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