1 am creeps along the bedroom walls,
it moves as vast shadows
cast by a navy night sky
hanging above a light polluted town.
The woman is awake;
1 am can hear the fabricated waves
of meditation and white noise.
She would rock herself to sleep
if she could wrap her arms
about herself and sing quietly
the lullabies she has been taught by the stars.
1 am knows she is too afraid of the dark.
1 am continues to stretch, flex
itself around the room, clockwise,
when she smiles.
The waves end and her ears prick
feline and alert;
she has heard the birds.
No one remembers 1 am
has more than the urban fox.
The woman hears them
loud and clear,
birds in the guttering
above her bedroom window.
1 am is starting to leave
and notices now how she breathes
deeply and finally,
at one with herself.
© Kristiana Reed 2019