Nocturne

When I lay my head against my husband’s chest his heartbeats like a bullfrog in his throat, its strong rhythm

brought on by fear or mating ritual, enticing meto press in closer. I’m a scavenger, raccoon-ready

to snatch away his organs and disappearbeneath the sewer grates. Evidence of his heart

everywhere, its undercurrent like afternoon rainthat flushes toads from their burrows. Their summer chorus

devours any thought of sleep. Something I could dream,unseen but so loud, so constant, I couldn’t possibly

escape, this haunting that has already happenedinside him, a ghost I pass from my mouth to his.