We cling to each other

like aging octopuses,

pseudopods entangled

in a silver braid of love.

We’re incredibly

empathic, probably

entirely telepathic:

When I breathe in,

she breathes out.

If I scratch her back,

my itch disappears

Almost every night

we discover we’re

in the same dream.

Early in the morning,

when I feel hungry,

I bring her oatmeal,

covered in cinnamon,

raisins and walnuts—

my hunger’s gone.

If and when I sense

her soul is ready

to leave her body,

my soul will take off

and reserve a space

in eternal stillness,

where we can remain

entwined for as long

as the seeds of time.

Milton P. Ehrlich 199 Christie St.