Sunday, January 25, 2009
behind my eyes
it vibrates and my eyelashes flicker
if it does not see what it says, then it feels what it means
it says, "soft"
it says, "pretty"
come away with me
warm, tickling the hair on my arms
resting on soft silky tentacles of moss and green
my mother's satin nightgown
a hot summer's afternoon blowing over my shoulders
the cool crook of my memory telling me...
"you remember sleep...let's sleep now."