Borrowed Time

I will not die tonight.
I will lie in bed with
my wife naked beside me.
She will sleep curled on the right
like an animal burrowing.
I will fit myself against her
and we will keep each other warm.

I will not die tonight.
My son who is seven
will not slide beneath the ice
like the boy on the news.
The divers will not have to look for him.
He will call, “Daddy, can I get up now?”
in the morning.

I will not die tonight.
I will balance the checkbook,
wash up the dishes
and sit in front of the tv
drinking one beer.