There’s an altar in the northeast,
the ark of our covenant,
a dream chamber framed in chocolate brown lines
like wooden roots and living vines cradling the earth of our marriage.

It lies against an eggshell wall,
a soft nest
where this sparrow sings his song.
The bed where I rest and hallucinate
a brilliant mosaic of sweet things I can’t remember
and kind gestures I’ll never forget.

I lay my hand there sometimes when you’re gone.
Just close my eyes and feel
Warmth in the shape of you.

And I sleep on the couch when you’re not here
Because our bedroom gives me visions
I need your wisdom to interpret perfectly.

I sleep on the couch when you’re not here
Because when you come home from work
You’ll wake me
and be the first thing I see.

I sleep on the couch when you’re not here
So I can fall asleep to the TV
and pretend the voices are yours.

Darling,
I didn’t write this because it was Valentine’s Day.
I wrote this because I never woke up this morning.

I keep having this wonderful dream
where I’m married to you.