Just a child scrambling
across my nightstand,
desperate for a drink,
his water dish chapped
and clammy. Just a kid
slipping on a cell phone
as he tries to sip from
a man’s glass, falls into
that dark unknown,
flails for any sort
of purchase, claws bared.
Needles in my face,
my nose, my forehead.
Blood on the sheets.
What did I expect,
leaving his bowl
empty in the night?