Three bites from the book of 'Notes' by Haley Parkyn
I am an ancestor of the straight-laced.
I'm going to think of dalmations
and try not to fall over in my bed.
Sighs form solid from
my nose and mouth.
Numb fingers and cheeks.
And warmth is to lay in a pool of
cotton sheets for a time and soak up the splendor
of half awakeness.