your fevered heart with mine,
its chills and sweats expressed
within my arms: in sleep or panic,
even frantic at the doctor’s touch,
fighting everything, including me,
eyes wide in confused terror and
your fists pounding on my chest
; all of this, my own body will absorb
with its skin and blood and joy.
Rest here, small friend; allow me
the honor of beating for your heart,
the privilege of maintaining you,
while raspy cries and shaking breaths
become still, and whole, and calm.
August 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment