Edges

Earlier than the sun she wakes to his elbow between her ribs. His edges sleepwalk like her mind--panic attacks manifest only in recurring nightmares. Dry eyes scan the ceiling, forbidding a glance at the bedside table. She overrides their conviction and observes a clock's top right corner enclosed by two black arrows. She appreciates his shape rising and falling next to her but no longer craves it. If only, she muses, everything were as concrete as time.