XLI. Under Sky So Starless

The nap of the blanket rubs against his nose.
****Shit, shit, shit
Instigating, provoking, antagonizing, evoking a sneeze that he stifles quietly
In the gulf between their pillows.
Everything in this room is so goddamned hostile,
Drawing him to open warfare
With this foreign domesticity.
Not a deliberate war,
Or one he'd chosen for himself,
****An emergent property of the wretched necessity
****Of everything that came before.

The dull, incessant
****Scratch, scratch, scratch
Of shifting sheets,
The call-to-arms creak of brass bed-posts,
And the deep yawn of stretching walls.

Please, God,
Keep it down. Please,
God, don't let her wake up.
I'm not ready**** to let go of her hand.