the best kind of rest—somewhere between
deep drunk slumber and an afternoon nap
second sleep when the body is
complete lost in itself
when the body defenseless with no
need except refueling my son and daughter say
I’m the king of second sleep during movies
especially they catch my heavy breaths in a net
of laughter or pointing fingers they predict
the path my head will teeter during the trailers
O children of the dozing dad recall
the number of naps when you each were
small melons recall the repose
of your curling posture in my thick arms
my thumb praising your eyebrows
and forehead your baby skin your hand
around my pinkie as I move gripping
solid as in—safety as in—safety
as in—I take it back—: that recollection
the best rest ever