ten in the bed

2019

they set upon me 
one by one

first, the soft-hearted boy at dusk who wanted to be close and could not be denied
would sleep on the bench by the window, or on the floor
just to be near, but at some point stealthily traded up 
to take the territory his father usually occupies

the baby who refused to be pacified 
who would romp and rolic until eventual surrender
parked at my side, eyes closed
a lion cub in wait

the child who arrived around 3am
stumbling sleepily, gripping her knees 
I’m growing and it hurts 
isn’t that the truth
drama was a strong suit, to be sure
she tucked herself right in
unfurling her slight figure against mine
snail to shell
defying the laws of gravity at the edge of the bed

surrounded on all sides 
by a tangle of limbs and light breathing 
a delicate orchestra of repose
it was
an act of contortion just to stay among them
navigate a sliver of cotton I could call my own 

I lay awake thinking of our old apartment in SoHo
where we had sandwiched every piece of furniture we owned
into tight corners and 
tidy little rooms 
it’s a wonder we ever fit a christmas tree
there was no space to exhale, to even open a suitcase
beloved as it was
literally everything touched

yet despite the gluttony of space now
whole bedrooms left empty
we congregate
atoms pulled together by magnetism 

they won’t always be this little
I won’t always be this wanted
so I manipulate my body into 
strange shapes
to hold theirs here 
for now

all together 
in this bed