Elizabeth Galoozis

MY WIFE ASKS ME WHY I KEEP TOUCHING HER LEG IN BED

in the night, I press
my foot to your hot bare calf.
surreptitiously

so I don’t wake you
into kicking me away.
how can I explain.

my body needs to
know your body is alive.
that my body is.

it’s the same reason
I stare at the cat sleeping,
her lungs’ rise and fall;

slide my hand inside
your warm hand in the middle
of a shifting crowd:

to prove to myself
our consciousness is fleshed out,
blood still runs in us.