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Sharing the Bed with the Baby When You're Gone

She takes your side
sideways, arrays her arms and legs
in starfish pose,

sleeps till 3 a.m., then wakes
and asks for a banana,
falls back to sleep

with the chunk I give her
still in hand. I stay
awake. Asleep, she looks

even more like you. She turns
and, turning, kicks my side,
and I think of all those weeks

before I met her, when she kept you up
tap-tapping you,
the vessel she was

sealed inólike Annie Taylor
in the froth and roil
at the bottom of Niagara,

waiting in the barrel
she called Queen
to be lifted out alive.

Shane Seely

The Greensboro Review

Fall 2017

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