Samantha Hunt

The gathering light
creeps through the window
to where she sleeps deep in the
damp warmth of blankets loosely curled
lips white moths upon her emerging face

her scent is dark
evocative of nights
spent in brown nylon nighties
static under psychedelic flowers
growing wide on the damp encroaching wall

mother to mother
we quietly wait for
that deep exhalation as
the mottled limbs stretch, relax
and dewy lids open to reveal each other