Awake.

It's midnight.

The quiet gurgle-

gurgling of pipes in 

the walls 

and the scritch-

scratching of pen

on paper 

comforts the sob-

sobbing toddler behind

my temples.

The ceiling breathes

softly.

Miles away, you

sleep, oblivious 

to the thump-

thumping of moths

behind your curtains.




 Rachel J. Clark