Circadian Still

This morning I woke for work

And missed you.

You were sprawled out next to me

Breathing deep, creased sheets

The city still asleep, quiet streets, 

Too dark to see

So I closed my eyes again...

And the rest of my life came to me in sheets

I flipped through days and nights and dreams

Until there was nothing

And then there was--

Nothing?

Except memory, lingering.

The smell of strong coffee, your fingers tracing me

A million different smiles, Sunday drives, mac and cheese,

sunny strolls, guitar strums, whispers, screams,

smoke breaks, sobs, hospital hallways

Draining from me.

I’m up again. You lie still. Here.

I shouldn’t dwell on such things-- 

And yet they like to dwell on me, at night they build their nest

And multiply and scream and weigh down my chest

I can’t breathe. I can’t

Breathe.

Don’t, don’t leave.

Life goes on, they all say, as though that helps.

That just means

There's so much you won't get to see.

What I wouldn’t give for our bodies to be wheels

That keep turning, gears grinding together and moved

By the Earth beneath our feet, connecting, spinning--

Stirring.

I feel the stunning loss already, the arms of sunlight

Dragging me into the day

And holding me.