|Jacek Yerka, 2011|
When she slips her wakeful thoughts
and they fall to the floor –
I set her adrift to float the night
She is unaware
I am the keeper of longings.
Nightly, I place them under her head,
furtive and hopeful
To the east, sun pools on a table
where he opens his morning papers and makes
them smooth. His palms press a cup of tea, and steam
travels along his chest, his neck, his chin, his mouth.
Eyes downward, he places on the vast water between
them a simple dream: Here she is awake, with him,
and he wanders tender slopes and sudden valleys
that invite him to stay.
I will moor these imaginings
on her pillow when it has once again cooled.
- K a t h l e e n K i m b a l l - B a k e r, 2 0 1 5
Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.