She wants to talk about the future,
about having a baby, but it’s late
and the quilt’s pulled up to my chin.
The murmur of her voice lulls me.
I dream of childhood summer nights
when I’d sleep on my bedroom floor
next to my brother with two box fans
against our pillows, and we’d drift off,
pretending we were lying in our graves.
“A Flood” by William Holman Hunt (1870)
Photo Source: A Polar Bear’s Tale