Miriam dreams of the sleepShe lost, the day he fellNow a cup of tea, a reverieUnpaid work that love demandsThe love she can’t recall“Wiwam,” he calls outShe goes to him, a beeEmptying her bellyDrip by drip, drainingCorpse of a spouse, skeletonLaconic—not by choiceDrools when she feeds himHow can a clot so small—8mm—make an infant of a man?Should love be so demanding?To take zest out of our livesReciprocal tenacity, him and herWho’s more tenacious between usDoes the winner gets to sleep well?