I wake up in the dead of the night
for the same reason you wake up:
to watch the night flowers bloom
hot-flash watered petal specifics unfold
anxiety twists them into shape —
what the world is now, what’s coming
what was said, did, or wasn't done; the lines crossed
think of the deepest ocean and lost civilizations
life on Mars, dirt beneath my fingernails
war and peace, sex and love
family and lost friends
time, and time being luck.

Sculpture: painted and folded felt