ROOM WITH A BED IN THE MIDDLE
I sleep my wife writes words
On a walk I saw two children playing a word game: the boy traced each letter of a word with his index finger on the girl’s back; her eyes were closed, she was smiling, pronouncing each letter he wrote, laughing, then frowning. Either the boy couldn’t spell or the girl couldn’t understand his fingers. The game didn’t last long, but I carried it with me for the rest of my walk, until it found its way into something like this poem.