I dreamt I held you a night or two ago,
let my head fall against your chest
and you caught me.
Humid air circles my skin,
recalling how familiar your arms felt around me,
and beads of sweat form
under the hair on my forehead –
despite the open window
and the wet spring snow outside.
I doubt myself,
but curve back into that homesickness
for something my heart
insists it knows,
and wonder at the strength of desire,
or perhaps of memory.