I have calculated the total number of hours
we spend sleeping beside each other in a week

and I wanted to tell you it could be considered
a full-time job. We could be eligible for healthcare
benefits, could probably even pay for a mortgage

by now. I remind myself of this, in daylight, when
I miss you and cannot reach across the bed

for the comforting filling and refilling
of your chest. Such a strange affair
we are having on each other; these hours

that I have not lost but do not remember.
This cannot be the best of love: to drool

on someone’s collarbone or inhale an elbow to
the jaw or be woken by the most ungraceful sounds
of the body. But what is it if not the softening

of grips? A letting go of. Your heart
finally slowly that stubborn, lonely march.

Autor: Sierra DeMulder