Going to bed after sunrise
Bella approaches meekly, then settles against my thigh in a C-shaped curve. Her eyes look into mine -- round, sad blue orbs, and as I pet her she purrs gently. Mushu sits on his haunches and looks at us. His pupils flicker across the irises, two rocks skimming the water's surface, and he looks to the window, the transluscent curtain, the morning light.
Outside, the tree's bony branches bob. It's forky fingers are pointing to the sky -- a soft, soft winter blue. It is light now, but the moon is a milky sliver that hangs over the eaves. I watch it as it slowly sinks from view. The cats close their eyes and sleep.
Outside, in the world, it is morning. The people fly from the crate-like high-rises like insects. The world begins to rub and whirr its wings. Here, we sleep. It is the three of us, burrowed and burried in the soft folds of white, like larvae nestled in a wound. We are all together. We are all alone. The brightening light diffuses tepidly through our curtains, and we are bathed in its softness. Outside, the world is noisy; inside, we are silent as the grave.
Goodnight. Goodmorning.
Hello, world.
Outside, the tree's bony branches bob. It's forky fingers are pointing to the sky -- a soft, soft winter blue. It is light now, but the moon is a milky sliver that hangs over the eaves. I watch it as it slowly sinks from view. The cats close their eyes and sleep.
Outside, in the world, it is morning. The people fly from the crate-like high-rises like insects. The world begins to rub and whirr its wings. Here, we sleep. It is the three of us, burrowed and burried in the soft folds of white, like larvae nestled in a wound. We are all together. We are all alone. The brightening light diffuses tepidly through our curtains, and we are bathed in its softness. Outside, the world is noisy; inside, we are silent as the grave.
Goodnight. Goodmorning.
Hello, world.