I Read You Poem by Zyw Zywa

At the night-lamp, I read you
in my agendas, I stroke the blanket
over your body and lie

awake between the sheets
on the hard question what
more should I have

not done but been
today? I listen
to you and the world

of footsteps, a door
the flush of the toilet
at the neighbours and the silence

of doing nothing next to the turmoil
in your bowels, drizzly
was the day, but

with siskins and sips
of ristretto, with your shoulder
leaned against mine

How often have we done that?