The Best Kind of Man

 He screamed during the night

a panicked, throaty undoing.

I ran to him, leaving my brain on my pillow

and you followed me right behind. 

He lay swiggly on the floor

rocking sporadically

and yelling and crying.

He asked us to kill him through his screams.

My heart raced and my brain found my body, questioning what to do.

After a seemingly eternity, 

he returned to us.  Now, he sobbed from embarrassment and terror, yet unfamiliar with exactly what he had done or said.

You scooped him up like a newborn and rocked him like you used to ten years ago.

But this time, his toes dragged the floor.  But he let you! 

You sang your made-up lullaby and his cries were soothed.  

My heart expanded as I watched the scene, feeling so grateful that you are my partner, 

that you are his father.  

You are the best kind of man--solidly built, meat eating, whisky drinking, cigar smoking, intelligence with an artistic vision and kind heart.  

He stumbled back to bed, soothed and tired. 

I followed you back to our bed, my love for you expanding my chest until it was hard to breath.  I rolled over, closer to you, feeling your body heat, smelling your smell.  

You are the best kind of man.  You are mine.