Sleep
My wife sleeps around
in any room, under
lamp’s glare, in front
of TV’s blare, splayed
across a brown sofa
or in fetal curl
on pale beige cushions.
I doze in easy chairs,
follow old habits and sleep
in a bed too large.
Awake, we wander
most our rooms together,
separate only in the shadows
of our own dark dreams.
Richard Dinges, Jr. lives and works by a pond among trees and grassland, along with his wife, two dogs, three cats, and ten chickens. WINK, Green Hills Literary Lantern, SBLAAM, Roanoke Review, and Home Planet News most recently accepted his poems for their publications.
