Does the cat prowl across the bed because I’m stirring? Or am I stirring because he prowls?
I had a pair of canvas Nikes with a blue swirl when I was in first grade. I loved those sneakers. And scissored holes into mine when Duncan got some with a red swirl.
I miss riding in the bed of pickup trucks. Wind snarling my hair.
I have forgotten so much poetry.
The night my son was born, I couldn’t sleep either. Watched him, the burrito of blankets, the kittenish squeals.
How does sleep warm a body? Radiate from skin, and blood. The dreaming brain.
What color is love? Yellow?
The curtains stir. Or the house. We are old at night together. Restless. Eager to talk, or wander, or sleep.
We don’t envy the dead. We envy the restful. The boy in the next room, who cries out, but sleeps on, undisturbed.