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.

Comments

  1. BrokenStreetLight19 August 2015 at 01:51

    "It seems that my transitions happen in my laying down"
    Hmm.

    ReplyDelete

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