The Protector/The Protected
I go to him at night
and watch him in his sleep
as I watch him during the day.
He gets into too much trouble
for me not to watch him.
So I lay asleep in my bed
and enter his room each night
so that no more scars
will cut into him or
I feel him watching me at night.
He stands at the foot of my bed.
He looks his fill as I sleep.
I'd think he'd get his fill in the day
when he watches me constantly--
even when he's not looking.
But still he comes to me every night.
I wait for him sometimes.
Yet when I look to where I felt him
there is nothing to see.
Originally published in Published in Brit Shriek!, Whatever You Do, Don't Press! (Agent with Style), 1992