Saint Therese In the Night
St. Therese wakes in the night.
She feels the bees buzzing in her chest
and kneels, naked knees on the floor.
I wake, startled, by a nightmare
that slips from my mind
to another corner of the house.
You are off somewhere else,
breathing in time with the ceiling
that rises and falls with a huff.
I stare into the dark, unmoved,
except for my lips
that offer a prayer of protection.
St. Therese and I pray in time.
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