It began with limber backs stacked
against cinder block walls. Limbs
tangled in soggy sheets pulling loose
from the dorm room mattress.
We breathed and dreamed as one.
That Spring we graduated to Metro North
commutes and late-night lesson planning.
Shared dreams whispered before tossing
lost in the quilt covered enormity
of our dimpled full-sized bed.
But then the babies came. The first
a milky breathed bundle of sighs,
the second, an acrobatic sleeper
and the bed no longer sufficed.
We ordered king-size for the cathedral
ceilinged room overlooking the Hudson.
Bookcases built in and pickled wood floors.
Room enough for bedtime stories,
midnight terrors and hazy hued sunsets.
Now, nearly lost to each other
in the emptiness of that big bed,
eyes closed, I reach across the expanse
and touch the soft heat of your dreams.
CLACKAMAS LITERARY REVIEW Spring 2024
Elise Chadwick 