Nothing or Other

Breaths I take when I sleep.
Emails, and
ladybugs on leaves.
Stress.
Door knob.
A coffee cup and a banana,
woman walking her dog.
Pebbles at the bottom of the pond,
ants in the park.
Tasting while cooking,
lazy afternoons.
Grey socks and three-quarter-length sleeves,
peanuts.


Snickers bars with a nut allergy,
grey socks with toe holes when meeting his parents,
long sleeves in summer,
sex in the afternoon.
Wedding cake tasting, and
carpenter ants in the honey jar.
Pearls at the bottom of a clear blue ocean,
hungry coyote.
Dessert coffee,
rotten banana in a backpack,
door jammed from inside;
stress.
Four ticks feeding on my skin,
a break-up email,

breaths I don’t take in my sleep.