Just past noon and the boy is, at last, sleeping beneath the kitchen table.
Difficult, the girl said, as if the child was a problem to solve.
Now she understands.
There's some rage within him-his little fists are constant.
Unless, like now, he's sleeping, his anger is gone.
As if sleep possesses us, infuses us with a goodness that isn't really us.
She peeks at the boy, at his tiny hands, at his dirty elbows, at his stomach rising and falling.
Or what if it is us?
What if sleep is the only time we are true?
If so, who are we when we're awake?
♥
Labels: just sleep
forever kids are magnets for each other ♥