Sleep comes like a tide.
Evenings at home, we drift off
heads back, mouths open.
On distant shores
2
Sleep comes like a tide.
Evenings at home, we drift off
heads back, mouths open.
I stop posting in
the blogosphere. No one reads
me. Do I exist?
Today was her last
day on a job I said ‘don’t
quit’ two years ago.
Cruzan pineapple
flavored rum makes happy hour
even happier.
Intense turquoise, the
water is a wake-up call
to swim, sun, sail, dream.
Sleep gently takes you,
like the lethal injection
you cannot resist.
I burn candles and
incense. Maintain silence. Find
myself in nothing.
Sometimes, the hunger
that compels you to eat a
cookie is sadness.
Soldiers wear helmets.
Women wear makeup, styled hair.
Our mode of defense.
The house of my heart
is white, clean, pure. No windows,
doors. No visitors.