Taking and Giving

And slowly stumble
into sleep.

And she kept his hand
between her knees,
even when urgent morning
slapped her face.

And under his heart
was a tiny piece of bone
that leapt and tangled.
Crudely sewn
on his sleeve,
a map
of her face.

The sound
of taking and giving
is a solid racket in their heads,
hopeful
in their separate beds.