I wish I'd closed my ears
late last night.
I wish I hadn't heard
the riot you put as my ringtone.

It was him.
Defences shot up at his voice
usually gruff and hateful
now tear drenched and fearful.
My mind played word tag
filtering out emotion.
Found, out cold, machine breather, for now.

Today they'll wake you
from my nightmare
and plunge you back into yours.

They say "the signs are good"
A term I find strange.
How can a purposeful dance with death
Ever be a good sign.