Prescience

My ribs grow more inward by day. Each night,I sleep with you in a small room, in whichwe steadily, by each hour, suck up all the air.

I dreamt tonight of a glass-bottomed boatfloating through a pine forest, needles piercedabove and below my reflection in the lake surface.

We live in a house full of breakable thingsand reassuring porcelain that we never touch.Foxgloves with their toxic mouths open for us.