things i think at 5 a.m.

Blue pearlescent light sliding
Underneath the shade.
Soft tug of sleep at my eyelids,
Fierce crying in my arms.
Milky air rising;
Pain passing;
Peace.

Tiny head smelling like
Oatmeal
The way Mama, my mama, makes it:
Warm, creamy, brown sugar and butter.
Sweet oatmeal baby,
Like mama:
Asleep
With eyes open.