Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Writing in the dark

my love is a bruise
a hot reminder, creeping outwards
one soft pocket like the slow rot
of an apple
in this house full of knees and elbows

when they finally stop writhing and sleep comes
then I am sleepless, bolt upright
my den encased in ice crystals
long eyelashes of hoar frost

the whiskered ones come alive
padding, their opportunistic nests upturned,
each puzzled by this day-creature who
has disrupted their nocturnal order


Rachel Westfall
November 18, 2008

2 comments:

Kyddryn said...

Mmm...restless nights...must be something about Autumn, because I'm not sleeping much, either...

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

RachelW said...

It's autumn where you are, winter here... restless all the same. I am so looking forward to a good night's sleep, whenever I may be blessed with one!