Cranes and Birds

In bed, cranes turn to birds.

The light’s glow licks their feathers.

Above are rain-dipped stars:

Bright fireflies, imposing gates.

The tap slows & scurries away.

Mother distances from the screen.

She is mummified with lotion.

I watch her eyes swimming with tears.

Each stroke of the clock sweeps

Away another package of my bundled thoughts—

Feet becoming strangers

As feathers sneak inside the pillow

Cold milk staining the window

A new day calling my name

In bed, birds turn to cranes

The night unfurls the papers...