Fear Sleeps in a Lavender Pillowslip

by Louisa Muniz

 
Out of the corner of my eye
I watch her watching me.
 
When the moon is full in June  
she crawls into my lap.
 
I lull her to sleep. Drape her
in a faux fur throw.
 
 I Hail Mary for her. Full of grace
she shrinks to the size of a wrist.
 
I turn on the night-light. Spray
the pillowslip in lavender. 
 
Her could’ve, would’ve, should’ves fade away.

                                 ~

I wake to morning glories unfurling pink silk.
The almost summer sun is full-blown
 
in the green & growing of June.
I search everywhere. She’s ghosted.
 
Soon she’ll return fretting to be held.


* * * * *

Louisa Muniz lives in Sayreville, N.J. She holds a Master’s in Curriculum and Instruction from Kean University. Her work has appeared in Tinderbox Journal, Palette Poetry, Menacing Hedge, Poetry Quarterly, PANK Magazine, Jabberwock Review and elsewhere. She won the Sheila-Na-Gig 2019 Spring Contest for her poem "Stone Turned Sand." Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and a Pushcart Prize. Her debut chapbook After Heavy Rains by Finishing Line Press was released in December, 2020.