pillow

I still have your pillow
you know
it’s not in the best of shape
given my restless sleep
and it could use a good cleaning

I’ve kept it because it reminds
me of our time of love
and its passing
each night before sleep takes me
I imagine I can smell your soft hair

I often think of you
and yes
still dream of you but it isn’t like then
when all my dreams included both of us
day and night

the story behind that pillow
stays with me even today
how you had a seamstress take two
and make one
sort of like what god does
with lovers

there were nights when
you fell asleep first
sinking into that thick down purse
just after making love
and I would lie propped upon one elbow
and listen to you softly breathe
the breath of love satisfied

I listen to music now
alone
while I drift away
just like when I was a kid
you probably wouldn’t approve
it always distracted you

I suspect you know I stopped praying
and it still feels odd
like sleeping without a net
but then
waking up the next morning
no longer seems all that important

I think god tired of hearing
only your name on my lips
with that onslaught of broken prayers
those very few years ago
as much in the name of love
as hate

there’s always a difficult dream
at first
a nightmare I guess
often I yell or moan as
I come out of it with a start
and of course I still snore
but I only wake me now

there are many things
lovers do when love is
taken from them
deserted them
things that help them remember
help them forget
or sometimes both

I’m no different I realize
for of all the truths I question
this one needs no prove
I loved you
there’s just no better way to say it

it looks like I need to add more
feathers to that pillow
but I draw the line
there
your nightgown has gone
to some deserving person
who needed it