i count her breaths sometimes
to slow my own. her belly
a hot air balloon, rising slowly.
these days i forget how to talk.
i notice a shifting eye
in each person i meet,
how their pupils laze out
at the sides, two blind lakes.
yes, i say, i did the laundry. yes
i will refill the soap
in the bathroom. yes i know
i’ve gone on another long walk–
i was never headed anywhere
but in a circle. yes,
i’ve laid down to dream again.
my cat– so quick to tense,
to hiss, curl her long claws,
now rolls over in her sleep,
her eyes squeezed shut. sometimes,
her paws begin to twitch, like she’s
running towards something
only she can see.