It's so hard to sleep
without the knocking of your
knuckles on the wall or on
my bony shoulder at 3:22am
or the tiny moans of dreams
in which you're touching my
hips or climbing fences in July.

The city lights bright in the
window mirror window distract
and while nearby sirens and
train horns sing through the
night in your presence tonight
I am noticing even distant song
and scraping of wheels on
track and locomotive groan.

I can see you curled in blue
and other devices for insulation
when I close my eyes tight in
the space where you were and
the space to which you'll return
in forever that's not far away,
in due time that feels eternal.

It's so hard to sleep
without your fingers on my
arm making circles and you
forgetting how it makes me
giggle or you remembering in
secret and smiling to yourself
as I squeal and squeeze you back.