In Early Motherhood I Lay Down Like a Cat Each Night,
half repose, half almost-
spring, ready to leap up, leap
after. I was electricity.
I was conducted by cries.
I learned to vanish
the paces between my bed
and the crib. I learned to vanish
doorknobs, darkness.
I never fumbled,
or stumbled into walls.
There were no walls,
or I had no body
to crash against them.
I was molecular,
ionized, I was only
nerves and milk and Now.
I slept on my back
with my glasses on.
I slept no fan, no hum.
I slept while rocking,
I rocked while asleep,
I never slept
but lay down each night
inside the purr
of my wired, ready heart.
