I held my son’s hand as he fell asleep
the doctor found a murmur
a day ago. I count his heartbeats
while we read,
one of my cats curls up on
the narrow of my back,
like a tiny tiger purring into the stars.
& what a time to not be drinking
tequila & elderflower.
I curl like a flower on the couch
to write a poem about
how hatred is a tiny burn
in the back of the throat,
& a tiny hole inside the heart.