By Roberta Curley
I hear everything but the breathing—
the irregular thumps
the floorboard thud
the squeaks
signaling the creaks
the twisting coils
and I know
#2B is embroiled
in something familiar.
When silence settles
and envy subsides,
I whisper-wish them well
praying that someday
I will sigh myself
to sleep
listening only
to the cadence of
someone’s breathing.
