Night Poem for Carrie

Late summer
I find that you have discovered the crickets,
help you lift the window
so they can coax you and woo you
to a night
that is inside your bones.
Your sleep begins to sway
like a wheat field.
A distant train rumbles
and hums along the bed that you hug.
Tiny cars wobble and bump.
I keep watch as you go out,
your face passing,
its small flutterings
in the darkness of flying windows.

—Alixa Doom, Le Sueur, MN