‘Night

It takes her a moment

to figure things out:

the clock didn’t stop working;

it really is 3:52 in the morning.

 

When’s the last time you caught

the clock staring at 3:52?

Too early. Still night,

not yet morning. Be still night.

 

The rattling of the house

lulls her sleep to deep;

then capriciously,

wakes her up again.

 

She says: fuck that.

without anger.

Tastes the calm relish

of expecting nothing.

_