You sleep earthquake some nights like a puppy Whimper and swim
You dream like the grand canyon did when it was just a shallow river bed
You never expect to get so big to create so much space
So I know holding you won't make you still
Your head in my hands like a sunrise strands of gold drizzling between my fingers
Your body like a lonely bear living in a city you miss home eat only yellow things Dandilions and honey bumble bees and chips of paint from fire hydrants
Inside you belly it is always daytime always spring
So much light you don't sleep well most nights
And I wish I could place my hands inside the space between your shoulder blades
and take it out of you hold it swirling in my hands
I will put it into a jar of water and in then in the fridge so that it might learn stillness in the cold
I will come back to bed to you a beer bottle still in my hand
I will pull the blankets from you and let the dark settle Inside this new space