it’s 2:38 in the morning
and i’ve been learning all the faces on my wall
i want to tell the monsters sitting on my ceiling
to crawl back beneath my bed
the warmth of the lamplight, how my hand is spread
it reaches up and up and up
to meet shadows splintered on off-white and beige
in the low glow of winter I will not move from my place
while the wind is still moaning and the snow is still pouring
it is 2:38 in the morning
and I am not alone