my eyeball is scratched or

there’s a filament of lint on it

and I lie here and wonder if

I’ll go blind

a bit melodramatic

more like think if

I’ll still feel it in the morning, if not

will I remember

the ghost of lint past?

contact lenses

I look better but I don’t see better

And my big toe hurts

at the side where

the nail’s cut too short

maybe it’s infected

or my sheet is tucked too tight

maybe it’s cancer

we don’t talk anymore

in bed because

you’re not here


there’s a sort of pride in holding all one’s own problems

inside one’s own head but

oh well

good night.







I wake to

your call

in the night

we lie parallel


two, at 2am


your nose

tucks beneath my shoulder

I’m your lodestone

head buried, body pivots


to 3 o’clock

how can one so small

be half my life

how can one so small

rob half my night

how can one so small

take up so much room

in the bed



Six Months


Six months I’ve known you

182 days

I’ve seen you asleep and awake

in so many ways


That transformative moment

as your eyes roll and close

slipping between time

where do you go?


My beautiful, funny, round-headed thing

with your gurgles and growls

a patient, determined little one

Love: mine and all of ours


How many times have I looked at you

touched you, waited til

I see your belly expand, a hand twitch with life

so you’re alive still


I need new words for your vocabulary

and the way you move

Watching as you change each day

grow and improve


The love for a child

gentle. wild. free

the adventures and dangers to come… fatal cliffs… my heart!

But right now, you’re with me