Nocturne

At night, the windows in our housebecome mirrors, as if to say

what happens here will keep on happening.

I press my face to the glassand seeblack trees, black sky, the moon like a pocket

turned inside out.

Below, I heara howl, which means our mother is dreamingwith her eyes open

again. I don't go downstairs after dark

but sometimesI talk to God from my bedroom.

His voice soundslike pink and blue buds opening inside of me,like singing bruises.