Hoot Owl

Don’t call to me anymore.
I’m not listening.

Might as well
tell all the shadows it’s time

to sneak out
of the woods, easy pickings

in here while I sleep, empty hands
on my breast

and my breath
barely stirring the air

as my open
mouth dreams in

and dreams out
more dreams

than I’ll ever
need, each of them hungry

for who knows
what when I waken.