First Cycle
I’m done with sleeping,
It’s time to hold you.
Through the open window, autumn sounds:
Shed-tapping from a nearby garden,
Children bouncing with trampoline joy,
Electric saw splicing open the afternoon.
Creating. Destroying.
As you sleep, my hand explores your body.
Feeling for changes,
Looking at your closed eyes
Longing for them to open
And look at me, like never before,
Fast, unblinking, certain with life.
But you sleep on, leaving me suspended,
Wondering into a future
Of cannula, Taxol, drips and drugs.