WHO SLEEPS WITH YOU NOW
Looking up from your book,
a half-smile traveled
from mouth to eyes.
"I was thinking of us
in our eighties,"
you said.
I have a recurring dream.
Us again, white beside white,
exiting the sparkle of arched swords
into the blue Pearl Harbor air.
My husband's tossing
awakens me.
I sit up.
Wonder.
Who sleeps with you now?