Fireside

I catch myself watching you,
the way you warm,
the way you claim space
from the dark–
certainly wild, 
but not a wild fire,
both invited and vital.

How many times
have I laugh-coughed
inhaling your thread-fine hair?

I see when you’re at home in your head,
and when you are not
I wonder how it feels
to have edges that flicker,
golden and floating,
touch…