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Hours
October 28, 2010
In the evening I am wide- eyed,
a crowing pixie child.
I match the dust to dust
and dirty my clothing.
In the cold belly of the night
I hear my captor breathe.
Shut-eyed, floating on a bed of waves
By now, I know:
this sea is not a sea at all,
I move in the breath of a beast.
Sometimes I sleep,
and in this I drift in dreams.
Once I drop in to reality,
I scuttle back;
Small mouse on hardwood floors.
In the morning I am trapped,
dead between your whiskers.
© Megan S., Marblehead, MA
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