Most nights now, unable to sleep, I stretch

out my hand across the bed to touch

whatever part of you’s within my reach,

your shoulder, back, your hair, your upper arm

and knowing you’re beside me, breathing, warm,

I feel less alone.

But though you never stir,

I wonder if your dreams are haunted by

a flailing man, for ever falling back-

wards off a ladder, grabbing at air,

at anything that might save him.