3:15 A.M. in a Florida Condo
by William Aarnes
If yesterday hadn’t exhausted her,
she’d be awake, explaining to her husband
that, eerily as those spiders squirm in
from beneath the kitchen door,
they’re just pharmaceutical.
She’d coax him back to her side.
But she didn’t feel the bed stir
at 12:30. And now he’s still
on guard, eyes on the stippled tiles.
He knows it’d be more surefire
to get down on hands and knees
and slap the elusive specks
with his slipper. But he needs
to keep quiet, so with her broom
he’s sweeping them back,
fending off any creepy dart
down the hall to the bedroom,
marking certain nothing furtive
disturbs her sleep.