The Secret Elements of Sleep
Kristine Ong Muslim
The pillow reassures with
the tip
of a hook—now rusting with age.
There are no patterns on the sheets;
you prevent errors by scrimping on
details. The bed lamp casts a light
a shade darker than necessary.
Dreaming, you stir while a ghost-child
travels with you, grapples at the elusive
crust in the underside of your hand.
Your dog scratches the carpet on the floor.
|