On Sleeping in My Childhood Bed Again

The whole dream
takes place in the doorframe
of the house that you lived in
during our bad year.

The internet tells me
that this means
I am making a home
in you. I keep

seeing us perched
underneath the rust
of the 4823 we watched
your roommate hang half-
drunk on a Sunday.

Your chest
is proud, pushing
your sternum out
like a boomerang,
and my back curves
into the quietest question
mark with your hand
resting on it.

In the dream,
someone snaps
a photo of us
we don’t notice, but
we give all
of ourselves
to the light.