Love, the love is always
there, but you always wonder
if the life is real as the flesh
of your wife’s soft shoulder
as she sleeps, or if you
have slipped on her slender
hip into a dream as it rises
like the dark green hill
in a scurvy-ridden sailor’s
nightmare, and you wake
up sweating because
you know you are lost.
Daniel Goodwin is an award-winning poet and novelist in Ottawa.
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