Waking
Fur constellating on the fitted sheet.
The skirt of the sky is pink. A squirrel leaps
in the dark part of the sky, the dog barks,
from the limb on this side to the other.
A squirrel does not fall. Shush, boy.
The dog sinks. The dog,
who was blocking the kaleidoscopic sky, folds.
Kaleidoscopic: the winter trees fragment the air,
but our bodies are blanket curves.
The dog unfurls: the squirrel is back to our snow, his snow.
