Poem to my husband's heart

Another lost and found poem has come home. (I knew they would return to me. I call to them and they come. Do you have one of my poyms?)

Poem to my husband’s heart

Every night, at three a.m., my heart wakes me
and starts calling for your heart.

It’s not that you are not here – you are
everywhere

You are
the towel on the floor
the floorboards’ creak
the neighbor at the door
who you know – because you walk
up and down the block,
and talk to people – but I do not

You are
this chair in the corner beneath the fixture you installed so we could read
this book filled with marginalia, scribbled in green, red and blue.

I do not want to wake you
because you work late and I rise early.
because you can’t sleep and I can.
because you like the window closed and I like it open, blowing across my skin.

But tonight, I wanted you to know that I have loved you, here, in the middle of this night, in a way that I have never let myself love you, or anyone, before.

Maybe it was because the day before, I had learned about a poet
who woke in the middle of the night and found that his young wife had died beside him.
And how she was there but no longer there.
Beside him but already gone.

You are…
this pillow you like better than the other one,
this shirt hanging crooked, on this hook here, by the door -
your hair, which sorely needs a trim,
your smile when you see me in the kitchen.

This air between us, swirling with light
- this lung, drawing it in
toward this heart
which wakes me up, at 3:00 am, calling
for your heart.

---

I thought I’d share some photos of my husband.

(In this photo, we’re 30 years old - and just discovered that I’m pregnant. We are glowing and silly!)

(In this one, taken ten (ish) years later, we are at the beach in Fire Island. Glowing and silly with Max and Katie.)

(Twenty years after that, father and son on the day we were gifted (by marriage) with our brilliant and beautiful and gentle-hearted Jordan.)

I don’t know why I’ve made this post into a gallery of our family. Perhaps because this family is built around and held together by my husband’s beautiful heart.

---

We have been through a lot these past few months. Though I went into the procedure rooms, I was not alone. My husband was right there - in the waiting room, in the visiting spaces, on the other end of the phone.

As we cross into 2025, I am so grateful for this man. I carry with me the strength and love we’ve forged together—a reminder that even in the hardest moments, his beautiful heart holds me steady.

You can read the full Recovered Poyms collection here.
And do check back now and then. There are more out there - and I am calling them home.