The louder the rain hits the window, the closer I hold you

As much for my comfort as yours,

feeling vulnerable as if the window and wall that separate us from the water

might dissolve at any moment and we would drown

Your sleep is punctuated by coughs and

I would think you had a fever

if I weren’t intimately familiar with your solid little furnace of a body

from so many minutes and hours and nights of rocking with you and

sleeping with you in the office bed or in our bed,

sometimes peacefully but mostly not,

as you are drawn to climb on top of me and wrap your limbs securely around me

like you’ve summited a mountain and must embrace the ground in gratitude.

When your shoulder leans into my windpipe

I try to rescue myself

without waking you up