Check the meter for me will you, Skeeter.

[mfwilkie]

This is an old piece I revised for the book.

Mags


He has an easy look about him
as he sleeps; day-lost-youth returns
when thoughts of surgery, of cures,
are swept away with rest he needs.
I check love's breathing, and the color
of his skin. I touch his toes.
He'll turn and reach if I remove
my hand. So I stay near till fear
can't find my sailor's dreams. My breathing
slows and matches his. For a while,
I let his rest become my own.

[David Nelson Bradsher]

It depends, Mags. How strict do you want to be?

[mfwilkie]

Not strictly IP.

The substitutions work for me, but probably hurt your ear.

The draft still needs some work.

And I may lay it out a bit differently, splitting the sixth line.

[David Nelson Bradsher]

It works for me in that case, Mags.

How about using "I touch his toes" as a bridge, meaning a completely separate line between two stanzas?

[mfwilkie]

That's exactly where I'm thining of breaking it, opening on the right side of the line.

Thanks, D.

[David Nelson Bradsher]

Wow, I'm better than I thought.