the slightest sound of a cat lapping water from a mason jar on the nightstand at the left
of my head
I am looking up at the ceiling at a sliver of light wondering how that sliver of light
got there
there is a thin light down the middle of it, Barnett Newman like
determined to shine right there like a tuft of grass through a sidewalk crack
your little things around the room surely popping in and out of existence
a camera bag somewhere with an old Polaroid camera with a few more photos to
maybe one of me or you or you-and-me
your hand on my belly my belly hair on your belly somewhere
white noise from a small heater
this sliver of light: maybe it is penetrating through the ceiling having penetrated through
night sky of the city, having traversed light years from some godlike force smiling
beams to me
your little hum of contentment having originated in my heart
the cat walking around somewhere and over an article of discarded-maybe-even-flung
some whiskey in something bubbly on another nightstand
my belly beating because my heart is dancing
your nuzzle on the right hemisphere of my beard
this sliver of light which am probably projecting up onto the ceiling, thinking of light and
shapes and divisions of those shapes
and my socks lying somewhere on the floor
I am reflecting on our mention of John Darnielle and thinking how I wish to hell I could
express that powerfully the power of this moment
(he’d probably say something about someone on a tile floor or an explosion of some
feeling your right thigh draped over my right thigh with my left hand
choreographing a hundred poses we might try
illuminated by a sliver of light
remembering my bed in my room in another house and laughing that I am not in it
one skipped heartbeat thinking of the one whose hand is no longer on my belly
how many slivers of light I have left on the ceilings of others
your hum of contentment having become deep breaths of sleep
hopes and tunes popping in and out of existence
here and there
in darknesses just like this in poses just like this with unknown movements like cats
stirring or little fan blades twirling probably clockwise
cameras with insides full of photos
people wake up new from lightsliverless darker/darkest places
poised to flash out slivers of light
above searching eyes

I flip over a quarter turn you flip over a half turn my belly now at your back and sleep-