Counting the Rings

i

near my sick bed
he murmurs of how he's crumbling
but I'm still here
I've fought so long, I'm here
for a while I trust
I believe this, I must
even when it's bad, because
his faith alone is not enough

my random thoughts of how long
I have, and his thoughts of
"will she be able to outlive me" -
even at moments like this
it happens that
we hold on and speak of a future


ii

rolling restless this early morn'
you exhausted and I
drying up from a virus

spying through the shredding
of 250-thread count bedding,
between the hillocks of your shoulders

we never can sleep
in anticipation for what's to come

to plant the seed and watch it grow
though we will never see it bloom
for all the other things we know

and live beyond that fertile past
of what we did and what we'll do
as sleep will still not come to us

close apart, we dare not fall
from the tree that burns in season
counting the rings of our poetry


iii

the moon has set,
I wake in the dark
to the rush of wind

I hear him rinsing off
in the basin,
we fall asleep before dawn