11-13-2023, 02:22 PM
Light streaks in from between the threads,
greying the black, glinting the sweat
building up like winter mist
between the skin and the sheets. The clock ticks.
The air conditioner hums. The bed itself
springs even only to
the beating of my heart,
the rolling of my gut,
the push and pull of my diaphragm
against my infant lungs,
though soon things have calmed down enough
that I leave a static dent,
that my breath is pressure lacking wind,
that white and grey and black are one.
greying the black, glinting the sweat
building up like winter mist
between the skin and the sheets. The clock ticks.
The air conditioner hums. The bed itself
springs even only to
the beating of my heart,
the rolling of my gut,
the push and pull of my diaphragm
against my infant lungs,
though soon things have calmed down enough
that I leave a static dent,
that my breath is pressure lacking wind,
that white and grey and black are one.