when my wife sleeps
she leaves
all her pressure points
exposed.
i know holds
from self-defense
to make an enemy
or a wife
relent.
laying there spent,
my wife has already submitted,
if not to me then to some other
force, equally dim-witted.
her mouth leaks when
she speaks in dreams,
and her hair
drapes her face and
channels her tears
into streams of wet ache;
and I guard her
borders
like an occupying army,
present
and waiting for something
impossible to arrive.
