Night

She’s not scared of spiders

She’s not scared of the dark

She’s not scared of big dogs, the ones that bite but call it bark

She’s not scared of growing old, getting bitter, not showing up, “nobody missed her”

She’s not scared of the future

She’s not scared of the past

She’s not scared of the moments and trying to make them last

She’s not scared of the night, in fact, she almost never sleeps

It must be a secret the stars and her keep

At night she loves breathing so much she can’t stop

Everything’s growing dusty, including the mop

She’s not scared of change

Feelings or surroundings —

who she is or who she was

She’s not scared of language —

“Who is” or “who does”

She’s not scared of talking or moving or being still

If she doesn’t tell you she’s scared then nobody will

She’s not scared of being alone, or together,

or apart, or in two?

She’s not scared of anything

She’s not scared of you.

She’s not scared, she told you

She’s not scared

She’s not

She’s only afraid, and she’s afraid of a lot.