The Lives of Furniture V: The Papasan

she never used to read much
before i showed up, falling asleep
two paragraphs after laying down,
her glasses thrown to the side of the bed,
her book face down, pages splayed
even though she knows it's disrespectful.
i’m here now, she lounges on me, her feet
perched daintily on the window sill,
books of current interest strewn
across the old chest next to me.
i hold her, sideways, long ways,
curled up, stretched out, no demands,
just like a big nest, she seems to like it.