Sometimes my wife
Squeezes me too tight
At night

Like she thinks
She'll wake up the next morning
And there won't even be

                                           An  
                                             E O    
                                           N     U
                                           I    T
                                              L

From where I was
And the way I hungrily eat
The pale morning sun

And swelter in the syrupy
East coast humidity
The sound of cicada song
Vibrating every line that makes
That outline up

I think sometimes that
She may be right