Saturday, December 21, 2013

I Am Building You A Poem

I am building you a poem
In the shape of a bed
Each of its four posts
Polished to a patina
As if softened and smoothed
By a hundred years of honest hands
Its canopy painted underneath
The bluest sky that ever was

And there is a window
Facing an ancient sea
And the wind over the water
Brings winter into the room
That houses this bed-shaped poem
And the fire roaring in the corner
Hisses and hums a lullaby
And casts a warm blush over everything

Of course the pillows
Are more like clouds
And the high count cotton sheets
Freshly laundered
And the giant goose down comforter
And the ruffled duvet
Well it’s the kind of bed built for sleep
The very definition of comfort

But did I mention the one line
Near the end of the final stanza
In this poem of a bed for you
The one line like a box-spring
Sticking up, almost through the mattress
So that you won’t sleep well
That one upward spiral of a line
Needling you all night
So, tossing and turning,
You won’t have that dream
The one where you are giggling
(This is that line)
And slowly licking his name
Off of your trembling lips

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