with the weight of a book on my chest,
and the words of a poem
fresh on my tongue.
I would like the two covers to lay there
like my blankets,
phrases tumbling against my heart,
soft-shaped syllables cascading into my dreams.
Tuck me into the binding
and let me sleep among the folds.
I don't want to go seeking
among your pages again.
2 comments:
this is lovely. "soft-shaped syllables" is as wonderful to read as it is to say aloud. the shift from the conditional in the first 2 stanzas to the imperative in the last stanza is so interesting. i suddenly realize you may not be speaking about a book at all.
Beautiful.
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