Sport 40: 2012
The air is too thick in here.
There are too many blankets and pillows
propping you up, wedging your legs.
‘I may be here tomorrow,’ you say.
It makes me think of all the little waxeyes
I tried to save from cats when I was a girl,
how I’d place them in warm shoeboxes overnight,
only for them to die by morning,
shocked by a surfeit of comfort.