Bedtime

When my husband is gone
I sleep on his side of the bed
Further from the door
As if the extra distance would
Deter an intruder’s violence
More than the baseball bat
Tucked behind the radiator
That my husband believes will
Fend off a person with a gun
I remember not having a side
Not having to negotiate
Owning the entire bed, all of its pillows
Blankets never tangled in anyone’s legs
Accommodating the rare visitors
Crowded, cramped for space, clinging
Glad for morning and their leaving
To retrieve what was mine, my space
Which now I share with the man
Who is gone for the night.