Late in life, temporarily
Upright, he looked back and wondered
At his lovers who’d never met
Each other, but who had, on three
Occasions, years and years apart,
After three of his surgeries,
Quietly crawled up in his bed,
Whichever side had the least wires
And tubes, to curl up next to him.
With each lover, he’d had the sense
That his comforter was seeking
Some consolation, assurance
Through body-length, snuggling contact,
That everything would be alright.
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