--

In the half-light, stretched out on an apple green coverlet, I think of you. Far away, miles our enemy, your memory like a ghost. I imagine your thick toes poking out from an unfamiliar blanket and the way your right hand twitches in those precious moments before waking. I wonder what time it is for you, and where you'll lay your twitching hand tonight. The light is snapped off and I throw my life upon these thoughts of you, hope in the darkness and a vision of you coming on the winds of sleep.