buzzing night bees

She’s awake at 3.52am
with yesterdays mouth and tomorrows eyes.
The blinds give way to velvet and silence.
The streets are inky
and the moon always lunatic
like her hair that danced the tossing turning dance with her pillow.
She lures the neighbours cat into her apartment
and teaches it a new name.
Sam.
Sam looks up at her.
Long-whiskered,
stripey-tailed,
silverbullet furry ball at her feet.
They share some triple cream brie.
Hot flushed skin and cotton knickers
meet the cold seat of the kitchen stool
and she pours herself a glass of wine
to toast to the bowl of full cream milk
she’s set on the linoleum floor.
They talk.
She mutters her words through fingertips into thick fur
Kneading in questions.
Petting in secrets.
And Sam, he purrs back his clever answers.
Universal truths.
Wisdom and knowledge,
in exchange for dairy offerings.
He slinks in figures of eight
like a slow toy train
against her ankles and woolly socks
before disembarking on trash can journeys
in black night alleys
and will make sure to serenade her awake
for another secret rendezvous soon.