just sleep.

then i will sleep. sorry undercurrents
tumbling rocks 
and objects in the tide
of dreams when i was nine
when i didn't deserve love
even to be in the clean plate club.
i got overly sensitive and mean in spirit.
i didn't ever feel i was good
enough.
the cats feed our wakefulness
and want to play.
it's almost day.

i found a pod by the burnt meadow.
one day soon it will open.
and baby praying mantises will spin 
out in the tenderest green 
i've ever seen. 

til then we must
like thinking stones
just sleep.