Early August Near Midnight
At the edge of the house I cannot afford,
Old window open, conscience thin
Black screen barely a mesh between
Two environments. One built to keep
The other out, the other which does not
acknowledge even itself. Behind every
Wall upstairs the cricketsong of heartbeats.
The family’s dreams swirl around me:
These are fierce hunters. Bills and debts
Look for places to hide but the dark wins.
I know I will have to sleep, awake, pay
A daydream down. But tonight
I will enjoy their protection, my fears
Fleeing from the dreamy claws of trust.