Seventy Feet Down
The kid has wet her bed and wandered in and, after changing, fallen into our own. Now with the cat hopped up from midnight wilds, the four of us breathe down the mattress springs. I'd dream whatever men dream in my place, but woman, girl, and cat are elbowing, and morning finally piles on with the rest of them and makes me work to let them sleep. They don't hear what I'm singing in the shower, and I have no idea what going on inside three kicking brains curled in our bed, except we need the time away from us, and door locks clack to keep us in and out.