For K

numb hands
growing more
numb still,
smiling under her
and her smile
growing
and his smile
growing still—
“you are
not crushing me,”

he said,
shut eyes
to cold and dark—
old cold,
old dark— unlike:
laughing, being
quiet
and calm,
talking,
and sleeping
and dreaming—

with new
warm,
new soft— unlike:
drifting
to sad
or confused
strange ‘scapes
each knows—

and awoken
by the shared feeling
to rise,
stretch
their bodies,
amidst a sea
of pillow,
blanket,
sheets and sheets—

the feeling
of warm water,
"of being held,"
she said,
and imagining more—