White Cotton

White Cotton



in rooms above

where faceless people


The lamp

tall beacon

in every room

housekeeping chatter

curtained darkness

and breathing

as I sit on

white cotton

I think of when

I won’t be near him

missing him in presence

the sensitive soul

ripping gashed emotions

I create the panic

I live one breath here

one in disaster

as I reach for perfection

he says it’s already



shadow of my hair on paper

exhale disturbing


a welcome motion

darling, is all I need

to leave this paper

and close this book.


August 21, 2009