Poem 20151012

the sheets are too hot
and laying on top
too cold with the air on

and the cat where my legs
should be turns me like
a snake–two a.m.

for thirty minutes and an hour
the sheets go on and go off
and the cat barely moves

and finally i move my head
to the foot of the bed
and curl around the cat

as if in worship
which she appreciates
and feel sleep descend at last