I may need to cancel, I sigh, there’s
homework, there’s a messy apartment,
and you tell me it’s cool, you’ll work
too, and for hours, we do,
headphones in, laptops up,
awash in lamplight and the
wild notion that my company’s
worth wanting even on
nights like this one.
Hop a Wednesday train to see you
at work, and it’s busy, we can’t
say much, but you light up
when I wander in, and
the journey’s worthwhile,
text dumb jokes your way on
the way back home.
I make dinner and you snap
a photo before eating, unknowingly
rinsing a wound left by some man
you’ve never met, and,
forgotten ingredient, you
run out, twice, swear that
you’re happy to do it,
and we settle in and watch
comfort TV and your
laughter fills the room.
I’m so glad that you’re here, now,
though I’m hesitant to name it,
still recoiling from scars and
the idea I must’ve earned them,
look up and your face is a sea
of stars, smiling, touching,
and it’s easy, finally easy,
to exhale.
michael king 