On the Edge

One on my lap and one by my side,
Queen-sized or king-sized, no matter how wide,
I’m always pushed out to the edge of the bed.
though I’d rather be in the middle, instead.
The tinier dog snuggles close as she’s able,
leaving me hanging out touching the table,
while the little-bit-larger dog curls on my lap
and no matter how much I wiggle or tap,
she will not budge to allow me to shift.
I know she considers her presence a gift.
One burrows closer under my arm,
as though by her presence she’s warding off harm,
but it makes typing hard with my arm in the air,
lest I disturb one of this bed-hogging pair.

Not fiction!!!!!! 5 a.m., weighted down and on the edge!!!!!