Awake As You Sleep
       

Lying together, having made
something warm and forgiving
out of our years,
I pull close
against the cold ahead.

It doesn't matter, you say,
we're together now.
And after, well,
you believe whatever
you want. Me, I'll lie
in the dirt.
It is enough to have this, now.

And you sleep.

I don't want much.
Grateful for red knuckles from dishes,
splinters from firewood
the pinch from paying bills.
This life lets me tend my babies
and kneel in the garden.
But I am greedy to resurrect us
from that ground.

I say
we are more
than flesh can hold.

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Copyright © 2014 Laura Grace Weldon All rights reserved
from Tending
The Aldrich Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission