Lola Haskins

Django

In the middle of the night he arrives
with his pillow.
He climbs between us
and slowly his shivers die.

He heard
the leaves move in the yard, a step
at a time.

This is what we live for,
you and I, this private moment when
he settles into our breathing, and
we are three birds on one deep swell,
a lifetime from any land we knew.

-Lola Haskins