April 10
a quilted pattern of darkness
descends on her nights
she wanders about
stubs her toes on chairs that
in the blackness
carry unknown shapes
afraid to flip on the lights
so she’ll see how empty the house
has become
over and over
she ducks imaginary bats caused
by flickering street lights on her ceiling
not wanting to disturb what may fly around
and land in her dreams
cursing as her feet slam up against the wood
she stumbles back to the bed
to stare into the blue light coming through
slits of metal on the window
so sleep eventually will come.
