The Secret Elements of Sleep
Kristine Ong Muslim

The pillow reassures with the tip
of a hook—now rusting with age.

There are no patterns on the sheets;
you prevent errors by scrimping on

details. The bed lamp casts a light
a shade darker than necessary.

Dreaming, you stir while a ghost-child
travels with you, grapples at the elusive

crust in the underside of your hand.
Your dog scratches the carpet on the floor.