The blanket pulls to the left
leaving me cold again.
I know that if I swing my feet out of the bed
I'll find the smooth cold wood with my toes.
I know this room in the dark.
I know this house
The geometries of the walls and the boxes of books.
I know the routines of the light's progress
The shadows cast.
I know its sounds
I know its rhythms
I know how to make it feel sterile and I know
What it takes to make it a home.
I know how it breathes.
I know how it waits.
I know the patience in these spaces.
I know that I'll wake up 5 more times tonight to an awareness
Of cat movement, breath change, temperature fluctuation
Just another tick on the night's clock.
And staring at your fingers curled in
Just kissing your palm,
I'll find the level again and
find the spot
And find sleep.
I wrote that around 5 ish in the morning on one of my "I'll just go to the bathroom AGAIN" trips while staying at karl's.