My apnea upends my wife’s dreams.
Loud, German guttural sounds of snoring
abruptly halt and she wakes to wait.
Her breathing deepens with her anxiety.
My dreams continue, although I know not.
Maybe I am at the lake with the kids
pretending to be a sturgeon weaving
low and without a wake.
Maybe I am driving through Gary Indiana
while it sleeps under absent stars.
Maybe I am in New Delhi walking with a slum-dog
to his bedroom in the wastelands.
Maybe I am back with my drug delusional father
dying of emphysema and I didn’t walk out.
Maybe God took my breath away to take me
to secret places beyond this nightly death.
My airways open again and deep draughts
stretch the two life-giving sacks.
My wife is once again lulled to sleep
by my edgy bilingual breathing.
© Gerald Allen Barrett and parentheticallyspeakingin3d, 2012.