Abiding I rub the exposed spot on his head
Behind his spin of hair and thinking lines.
Instead of drooping onto my lap, he sighs
Darts back his eyes, and mumbles that I shouldn't
Inch away, and then his head falls hard onto my chest, a great
Nail to hold me there. We cry because the other cries, we sit
Gravely surviving the weight of each other's arms.
--Suzanne L. Gillis