NIGHT WATCH
He wakes
just after 2 am
(Isn't that the way it is?)
and when his wife
gets up to pee,
he feels her moving,
hears the urine
in the bowl.
He is already missing her,
the absence of her
at his side
Smaller than the buttons
on his pajamas, the weight
on his chest is her light way,
her quiet being with him
over half a century,
the living in his wonder
of her with all of his questions
On returning to bed,
she coughs and he moves
into her arms, he is still
thinking about his question
of last night about orphans
prompted by the novel
carrying him through the week,
Do you feel like an orphan
Yes and no, Oh, I don't know
He asks her the time
and because she hadn't looked
when in the bathroom
she looks for him now,
Just after two, he asks one
more thing and she squeezes
his arm, No more talk
she says, he weighs
her direction altered
again by tentative re-assurance.
Jim Bodeen
20 August 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment