Before falling into sleep,—
A cramp in my leg deepens in the night.
•Brendan slept, coiled in my arms today. •I wake to pain as a phone call from the past, the voice heavy with regret. •The cat slips once more into heat— the air heavy with her bodily changes. •Tonight I will dream if my right hand wounded; the air thick with scent of blood. •I planted a yellow jasmine outside the bedroom window— its vines sensing the trellis immediately, seeking support. •Part of me wants to write another prose-piece on the Greek god Pan— another part of me wants to sleep. •For the most part of the day a bitter resentment grew stronger: I am not living the life I expected when I was younger.
101/ Before falling into sleep, Pan sets his clock an hour ahead. The moon rises in schedule, motioning across the windows, with a heavy refracted light.
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