Sleep

I need it, more and more, despite the way
my jaw tries biting its way through the top
of my thick skull. I wear a guard to keep

my teeth from eating teeth, a sullen dog
with his new stolen bone. My husband sleeps
beside me, quiet, too quiet. I turn

like Luke turning to Han to make that quip
but catch myself in wonder if the quote
was even them, or if I’ve made it up.

I let him sleep, but watch his every breath
and try to loose my jaw. And try to smile.