Fog,
so desirable in the light of day,
slides underneath the door,
bringing along a gentle murmur
that drowns out the night’s
resonating silence.

Swirling and drowsy,
she dances up the bedframe’s weary feet;
riding the comforter’s waves,
her weight slowly claims my body’s outline.

My limbs become her second,
third, & forth homes.
She makes herself comfortable first;
she slinks towards my rocking head,
assessing my maddening thoughts with a curling smile
before sinking in, cold and soft,
like my mother’s deceased gaze,
whispering “hush.”