Neighborhood Watch
At home
there are decorations
and there are photographs
furniture and food
domesticated animals
a nest for fluttering protons
sleep comes swallowing
synapses and senses
gently consuming
anxieties and hopes
a deep fog
wrapping around tract homes
slowly seizing
roads and houses
in the middle of the night
street lamps disappear
and the world goes black
but the moonlight
a glint of ice
hiding beneath the rafters
like a child
hiding from its mother at bath time
Maybe we are reincarnated
many times each day;
dying with each exhale,
arriving with each inhale.
the fog cradles
and whispers
echoes of your voice