I am the keeper of the house.
Locking doors, dimming
lights. Tossing, turning
racing, burning
thoughts and visions
flaming red.
My tired body
begs delivery
into sleep.

Some late nights before bed,
when I kiss the soft warm
heads of our children,
tuck in their limp,
sleeping bodies
one last time
one last time,
I smell traces of you
on their hot, still faces
and it brings me
comfort.