I remember nights you couldn't sleep, all
the voices in your veins running slippery
silver, tongued and unsung, I
paced the floor, my heartbeat
footsteps creaking old wood, hand
cradling skull, your heat resting
on the flat of my arm my chest my
shoulder, rocking back and in
from the window looking out
over the streetlight lit alleyways, in
to the spangled translucent
unhesitating dark of the still interior
where sleep reigned over all but us
and I taught you to breathe
with my own rise and falling, taught you
to rest in the confidence of my vigil