Insomniac Romance
       

We hate to hate each other but we do—
then feeling bad because of that we lay us
next to next in bed, two statues on a tomb.
We want to crash to sleep but can't
reliving meannesses and fights that flicker past
as dumb shows in the cemetery light.
But leave you? I do not think I could.
like what carries on. I like the in-and-out
sound of your breath and your warm skin,
my steadfast partner, in the practice death.

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Copyright © 2013 Lynn Levin All rights reserved
from Miss Plastique
Ragged Sky Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission