by Dale Goodson
good because
I’m next to her
good because she’s next to me
good because
this side of the earth is in darkness
good because
our heads are down
feet touching
fingers clasped
the thin curtains
rise and fall
as if someone giant sized
was breathing on the other side
(but it’s not someone
it’s some thing, something immense out there)
wouldn’t guess
that in other buildings
in other cities
sleep other men
and other women with dynamite in their thoughts
with matches on their night stands
and come morning
they’ll light the stuff
and another good night will be blown into graveyard dust
our night
(this strong hugging)
won’t stand up to the blast
(won’t stand up to nature’s whip either)
but in lying close
in breathing in
in our soft grabs and grasps
we find some defense
bed to bed to bed
with
others like us in ferocious slumber
easily knocked to pieces
but full of good power
I rub my thumb against her palm
she rubs back
the dark bright trees wait for something else
Dale Goodson is a writer from Seattle currently living in New York City and working as a homeless outreach worker in Times Square. He recently created his own website: dalegoodson.com.