In Bed With Grief

You hold me like a
household pet—to you
I am the messenger of death.

When you let me go,
I did too. I’m sorry
I didn’t know.

I awoke again from that same
dream of many forms,
and found your heart underneath

the covers. I pulled them over
and stayed awhile longer

even when I knew the sickness
had sunk into the sheets too

even though next to you
only weeping has meaning.