sometimes I fall asleep in my grey office chair
working late at my desk
sometimes I wake and go back to where Teri sleeps
sometimes I ease into the dark-brown recliner
next to the bed
the recliner her sister Rachel practically lived in
the one Teri lives in now
sometimes I pull an indigo knit throw over me
and watch Teri
sometimes she’s quiet
as her blanket rises and falls to a gentle ocean tide
sometimes she utters snatches of words
my ears barely catch
sometimes those words
are followed with her body rolling
arms and legs jerking
sometimes there are only those sudden movements
sometimes I touch her shoulder
rub her back
tell her “it’s alright you’re just having a bad dream”
and Teri goes quiet
sometimes when I’m there the dreams don’t come
sometimes I close my eyes and sit upright
so I don’t snore
and stay until morning
Bio: Jonathan Yungkans
