a near kiss, framed within a coffee ring distress

and a moon phase ambush of cold saturation

a hand pushes to the glass

the world ignorant to its existence

but it pleads with me

—return my touch—

a fright of creation in monstrous hours

i breathe within the atmosphere of dream

but come to my consciousness

as a single finger taps atop my spine

a smile surfaces as my belly blooms a warmth

and in whisper i ask what kept them so long

E. A. O'Connell. April 29,. 2022