what never slept finds words to spin. cat sleeps near my feet. head propped in contemplation she sleeps. chips on my shoulders are stale. shower has washed away the saltiness. sexual energy converts my smile to giggles. with humor i ponder which outlet begs to be plugged. tiny blessings carried me through the day. the oldest son reminded me not to grieve. it’s okay to miss what’s imagined never was. he has brown hair, blue eyes, and milky skin. his arms were warm and he smelled of lemons and pinecones. unexpectedly so. air seems cleaner. coughing has lessened. yearning has moved to mid-belly taking the place of anxiety. it’s a comfortable unease. i answer a man’s questions. he replies with silence. somehow it reveals what he wants. it is never so simple to ask. the air is cold. i place a warm hand on my breast. it’s softer than i remember. a knock at the door reminds me a gift needs to be wrapped. i wonder if i’m a black or a white elephant.