On my Back
I find senselessness in the judgement of the layers... those that live on their backs It does not instantly invoke misery from that place my femininity lives Nor measures of wastefulness from embedded social neuroses It seems that my transitions happen in my laying down Somewhere in ceilings are the maps of my life Embedded in walls are the stacked cards In trailing sheets... Dented pillows... Bunched up duvets... I find the complicated dancing that turns thoughts into reality The freeing two step that guides her as she emerges from our laying down To a spring that has sprung just for us .