Sleeping With Pain (Poetry)

My secret sharer — close and thin
with jutting elbows, too-hot skin
our bedclothes tossed and dampened — creased
by this amorphous restless beast

brooding always, curled inside
then lashing sudden — opens wide
the path of pain — the rake of claws
and clench of howl-preventing jaws.

I take the pills as if their spell
could rid me of this fiend from hell
I turn my back — abhorring fuss
but still he waits — my incubus.

The hours stretch. We never speak
for compromise is out of reach.
He’s there for torture — such is fate
the killer cavalry runs late

but dulls the action for a while
I slide asleep — a drugged-up smile
settling grateful — brief respite
from war that drags on half the night.

This lull the closest I can come
to winning that which can’t be won.