And even now the sleep won’t come. Sleepwalking rooms, little statues watch me watching: porcelain horse, Allosaurus. In the forest, toy owls dine on toy mice. Snowy cutouts, wintering. Mildly, the thought occurs, my loneliness. Turn the page: a giant peapod for nesting babes, and a sleepy frigate passing the night clouds. I place the water vase, drop in clear marbles. (plop, plop.) Those red- vested capuchins, chained and singing: a windup reminder. I face the tiny relief of a mermaid, left behind, etched into a cupboard which is otherwise so barren.
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