If you could unzip his legs
you would find his bones
have turned to bees
I read to him in my hypnotic voice
but it is no match
for the surge of giddiness
I can see the glucose in his eyes
masquerading as glee
I try to imitate sleep
or someone knocked unconscious
while he plays with my hair
and sings the E-I-E-I-O part over and over
his breath warm
in my face
an hour passes
the house looks as though it was robbed
by someone convinced we keep cash
in kitchen appliances
or inside our winter shoes
by the time he is still
I am in debt to the sleep gods
the mercy came slow
and in a moment of wretchedness
I promised them
too much.