Water Signs

You turn your back to me as you fall asleep. We disentangle. I watch the swells of your breathing in the faint moonlight. The deep rise and fall of your foothills. I wish you were still awake.

But you are long gone. Dreaming of boats. A symptom of your compulsion to leave. A metaphor for your departure. I picture you looking to the stars. Celestial navigation. I fall asleep tracing constellations onto the moles on your back with my fingertip.