Poem: Sleep Becomes Her

Your face
On the pillow
Whose cover hasn’t
been washed
in a week.
The same pillow
your daddy drools on
Because he sleeps
so sound.
He flips it over
graciously
when I notice
the spots.
And I snobbishly
will not sleep
On the pillow.
But you do
Because your face
On the pillow
is all that matters
right now.