I could write a whole poem about the way you breathe

And I think I will. The soft rise and fall of your chest

As I lie next to you, watching the movement of your

Smooth skin, even in sleep like waves, like tides, inevitable

I know how hard your body has worked to make you

Breathe. This moment was not inevitable. I could

Creep inside your lungs and look at the little stress scars

On your broncoli tubes, see the history of rashes inside

Your trachea. The fluid that has tried and failed to take you.

You have survived more than most to breathe like this,

Peaceful slumber, the night air circling around you

As it filters through those perfect passages, inevitable

I press my palm bare against your chest, move up and down

With your lungs, as though I am making sure you breathe