The child, exhausted by his sobbing, falls
slowly into dreams. The mother (a low, quiet
perfume) and the father (a thick, midnight
sweater) have long departed. The cats, equi-
distant from the couch, are curled around
themselves. I can barely hear the clock ticking
over the dull hum of the fridge. Somewhere
deep inside the walls, a furnace grumbles
from its slumber and breathes heat. The cats
roll, stretch their paws, and sigh. All around me
the world is sleeping while lovers are strolling,
arms entwined. I am alone, sitting in a room
of perfect stillness. I am blessed to be the one
who, in the midst of all this silence, has been
called to stand sentry, and bear witness.
