In the middle of the night
he is lit from behind, the glow of the hall light
shining through his skin and I want to ask him
all the things that end in
Yes,
the things that someone else with
better words and softer, paler edges
could spin into the silk of romance and something like
forever but the night
is heavy with the weight of day and though I can see him
my eyes are closed and somehow I can only ask for the one thing
that’s immediate:
water.
When his shadow crosses mine again he brings me all the answers
in a paper cup
and holds it steady till I rise to drink.