Dreams Come True

With you, I’ve
revived teenage glories
mingled with poets
pandered politicians
sailed south on a summer cruise
screamed in joy on roller coasters
kissed at midnight on New Year’s Eve
spoken my own words at an open mike
laughed heartily and daily
put the children to bed as you wash dishes
held hands in every movie
woken cuddled in smiles
flown above the ocean waves

A short list
of the fantasies
you’ve made real
with no real attempt
at being fantastic
just honest truth
that this is how you live
to make my dreams
come true.

With you, I’ve
been set free to soar.

Three AM

3 am insomnia 

listening to the sounds of breathing

my husband, the cars outside in doppler exhalation,

wondering if wakefulness will be

my new curse, my new normal 

here in this new and old place

where what was once normal

is now shattered,

where I can drive and point

out the window and say,

there’s where we married, or say,

there’s where we broke into pieces  and 

both were true, once, but don’t really matter

anymore, years later, now that there is no more we.

I am intertwined with the breathing, instead,

as my still nearly newlywed husband reaches

his arm over, to hold me in the dark.

In the Moment

In this moment, there is
normalcy, domesticity, tranquility
and loving you as you love
watching the pasttime that reminds you
of simpler, easier times
of when your Nana
whose ring I bear
watched with you, cheered with you
and I’m certain, though certainly not
her, that you are happy
in this moment, with me.

Toothpaste and Tobacco

In the dark, lying face-to-face
the most intimate moment
of vulnerability, of openness, and
I smell, I taste the faint
hint of toothpaste, minty memory
hovering over the merest whiff
of tobacco, the remnant of your last
solitary walk outside for the night.
I drink them in, my bedtime aperitif,
dizzy and falling into your lingering mouth.