Before you read this (and this is mostly for my parents) here is what this poem is about. I was in my friends' room, talking to them late at night. At around 2 AM, I suddenly became very sleepy, and I ended up falling asleep on my friend's bed. I woke up in the middle of the night and my friend was also sleeping, so I didn't want to wake him up by leaving. He woke up for a second and said it was fine, he didn't mind, and so both of us would be more comfortable, I put my head on his chest and we fell asleep. It still doesn't sound completely innocent, but it was, and I don't want my parents to read this poem and freak out. The experience was very nice, actually. I got a great night's sleep, and it was very peaceful.
A soft hand in the twilight
of the room envelops my
cold fingers and folds them
in a cotton petal palm.
I listen to his heartbeat
too quick for drowsy blanket minds
and my hand curls around a lock
of downy hair-
a feather in the dark.
Creamy night melts shapes
and dreams into the undersides
of my eyelids, leaving
me only touch:
warm pillow of slow breath
gentle crook of elbow
careful wriggle of toes.
i can savor the moment now
because in the light, only the light
seems to matter.
1 comments:
You're wrecking my image of students, Maria. There is about you an unusual reticence and loveliness, although I'm not convinced it's entirely peaceful. It seems to me that a fire is smouldering.
I might even be tempted to offer you my short essay on a woman's most precious jewel and her capacity to bestow the greatest of all honours. You're one of the few people who might understand it. But it really is none of my business.
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