I would like to bed this tiny kernel of solitude
curled in my soul comfortable
as an embryo in the womb,
slowly discovering itself.
I would like to carry it off
by moonlight and snuggle with it under the covers,
my chin notched below its shoulder and no sound
but the cat's soft breath and the cars
slicking by in the rain just there,
beneath the window.
I would like to get to know it better:
how it settles, how it sighs,
if it murmurs in its sleep or reaches for a lover.
I would like to invite it to seep
through my skin and kiss my muscles into submission,
open the door to my deepest thoughts and shush them with a touch.
curled in my soul comfortable
as an embryo in the womb,
slowly discovering itself.
I would like to carry it off
by moonlight and snuggle with it under the covers,
my chin notched below its shoulder and no sound
but the cat's soft breath and the cars
slicking by in the rain just there,
beneath the window.
I would like to get to know it better:
how it settles, how it sighs,
if it murmurs in its sleep or reaches for a lover.
I would like to invite it to seep
through my skin and kiss my muscles into submission,
open the door to my deepest thoughts and shush them with a touch.
I would like to take this quiet place and draw out its
circumference,
a series of circles each wider than itself,
crawl into the largest ripple, and make myself a home.
a series of circles each wider than itself,
crawl into the largest ripple, and make myself a home.
T.A.B. 4-16-13
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