I made a nest of her hair beneath the couch,
circled soft gray strands into a bed
Wove black threads and sock pills,
sea green that smell of aloe into the place I lay my head.
Because she is naughty there are bread crumbs
and cheese crumbs on the floor beside my bed,
what she brushes off becomes a feast.
It is never too warm or too cold beneath the couch,
though sometimes I fear she might squish me when she sits
but she stays on that end and I on this,
and we watch The Sopranos again.

One night late, before she wakes at three for a
swig of cold milk from the fridge to stave off the pain
I crept into her bedroom and a sneeze came upon me
unannounced, incidentally, nowhere to hide.   
She sat up wide awake and said, “Hello?”
I froze, astonished she could hear, annoyed I let myself be known.
She said again “Hello?” asking of the dark
and I think she wanted someone to be there.