As I lie
in thin sheets
peppered with faint flowers, red
blue, magenta, small specks of yellow
knowing she looms behind me
wishing to touch but why is it
I can’t reach back?
How far is she, sitting, head posed
secured in the reassuring crook
of her curled fingers, a weak constructed fist.
And the sunlight splayed across my torso
But I turn away with a folded chest
and my arms snuggled in a cozy embrace
into my bosom.
“Dearest Benji,” she sighs. “Where else
can I go?”