Trapped

His arm went limp across my belly,

I was stuck—or didn't want to go.

The screen kept flickering but I wasn't watching,

just the weight of him there, the slow

rise and fall of his breathing,

the small wet sounds, the sweat

gathered at the nape where his hair was matted

like sleep was something he had to get

through, not fall into. My leg

fell asleep but I kept it still—

the anchor of him settling deeper,

his head tilted back. And I will

remember this: the mouth open,

the trust of it, how I wouldn't move.