Our kittens look innocent after their rampant hours in the dark;
I didn’t dream of them, he didn’t dream at all.
The teasing rain outside, someone playing a drum;
I’m not sure whether to believe the weather.
I pull my sleepy bones into dog-facing down, lunge
into blood flow caffeine flushing, stretch, an offering.
A rare sunlight, rising at noon, small journal entries –
I want to somehow keep the sun in this room.
The warm tea and half-burnt scones don’t entice him
from sleep, a hesitant body, a last day of rest.
Christmas continues to hide in corners, another holiday
of hearts peeks around this week’s bend.
My wits scattered like seeds tossed to chickens;
the day already a puzzle with borrowed pieces, some missing.
On this hearts’ day, we brush lips gently
and later I will bake a cake, deep chocolate, cut to the shape of our love.
As though sleep was something we had not been given, we lie prone
under the sheets, suck air in and out, our inside legs touching, in a three-legged race.
No lights on yet – my mind under a comforter;
I keep the cats off dangerous surfaces where they only hurt things.