It was short-lived
and confusing
like the breath of many masters
but held a simple beauty
that the footnotes can't deny.
Once my left arm went numb
or my downturned shoulder was sore
I'd roll over to face the box fan
instead of her slumbering back.
Whether it was a cognizant decision
or the equally appreciative will
of a mind at war in dreamscapes
she'd always turn around as well
and slide an arm my way.
Subconscious or not
it was the closest I've come
to reciprocated effort in years.
Currently reading:
"Kentucky Straight" by Chris Offutt.
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