Here inside our sleep-heavy bodies\u2019 folded pile of slumber,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0 something like a spider bite in the crook of a rib:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m wide-eyed in the dark. The spark of fondness blinks out<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and goes. Like you, it\u2019s not gentle: It\u2019s something like an itch, dragging<\/p>\n\n\n\n
itself across the length of my sternum. It roils like a hedge<\/p>\n\n\n\n
gone wild and raggedy, tearing up its dirt, tangling itself<\/p>\n\n\n\n
in the backyard as you sleep. There\u2019s a cat yowling all night<\/p>\n\n\n\n
outside this bedroom, full to the gills with your smell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The black hole of the question unwinds itself, hungrily, in the soft<\/p>\n\n\n\n
cups of my ears, scratching: Is this all? It growls. Is this it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You are snoring and meanwhile my tiny star of love swallows<\/p>\n\n\n\n
itself, ravenous, teeth gnashing, down into nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sarah Dayley (she\/they) is a writer and artist from Oakland, California, unceded Muwekma Ohlone territory. Sarah is a Hambidge Fellow whose work can be found in Duende, the Berkeley Poetry Review, the West Trade Review, and on sarahdayley.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Here inside our sleep-heavy bodies\u2019 folded pile of slumber, \u00a0 something like a spider bite in the crook of a rib: I\u2019m wide-eyed in the dark. The spark of fondness blinks out and goes. Like you, it\u2019s not gentle: It\u2019s something like an itch, dragging itself across the length of my sternum. It roils like … <\/p>\n