The Time

how many years have to pass between us
before I can tell my husband how much I love him, how much
I truly need him to be here with me, how
every second we’re separated I think of him, think of the way he smells
tell him how I’d be dead without him beside me at night

of how often I think of the day we won’t be together, that I think about
the day I wake up and find him cold and stiff, how I imagine his face
will look when he wakes up to find me dead
the stories we’ll tell at each other’s funerals
how I imagine the silence of the house without him

how long do we have to be together before I can talk
frankly with him about love, and death, and what I want him to do
after me, the things I wish would go on without me
the things I plan to do when he’s gone.