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I have loved other women
who, like you
were loved by other men
Unlike
with other women
in my sleep
my hand is not reaching out
to see if you are gone
At least
I don't think it is


The following is from a play that I am reading called "The Lady's not for burning" by Christopher Fry.

Jennet faints
Richard(running to support her) :Look she has fallen
Chaplain: Air! Air!
Tyson: Water !
Thomas: But no fire, do you hear? No Fire! How is she, Richard?
Oh, the delicate mistiming of women ! She has already
Snapped in half my jawbone of an ass.

I have loved other women
who, like you
were loved by other men
what is not like it was
with other women
is that in my sleep
my hand is not reaching out
to see if you are gone
at least
I don't think it is


Jack, there is certainly a poem waiting to be written about this situation. My quick inbetween monsoon showers comment is delete Line 4 immediately. It is clumsy and almost unreadable.. Then take your time about revising the rest.