i.
she told me to listen to the silence;
count its beats, she said. my eyes slipped
closed but all i could hear were her chandelier
earrings swishing and her sticky fingers turning
the page of ave maria.
*hear the music. feel the notes
within you as you breathe in
and out*.
i would have rather felt his hand in mine.
ii.
the last time it rained, i tried to count the drops.
they hit the porch swing with such a force, i thought
a bird had flown into the windowpane again.
i licked my lips and drummed a finger
against my thigh.
*one two three four, two two three four
three two three four*.
before i counted a full measure, the rain stopped.
iii.
it was before sunrise, but after sunset
when i heard the thump thump.
so i curled a hand around your arm, and placed
the other on your heart.
i counted:
*one and two and three and four,
and two and two and three and four and*
you kissed my hair and whispered –
voice deep and raw:
go back to sleep.
but i waited until you snored, laid my head
to your chest, and listened for the metronome.