I cannot sleep, so I imagine my mattress is a raft.
My hot and stiff apartment floats away, And I begin to bob and heave with the breathing sighs of the sea. My things, strewn about on what was once a floor Are caught in the waves, Fading in and out of view as blue crests and falls over the horizon. I watch my guitar float past, A humpback whale its willing courier. Peering into the depths, I find myself in good company, As turtles balance my books on their shells, Seahorses tug my jewelry through the current, And an octopus grasps each of my favorite dresses In its slippery tentacles. I do not ask my companions where we are going, Knowing full well their inclination toward mystery and intrigue. My new apartment and I float through the blue depths, Charted on a route we do not yet know. I lean back, let the mist spray my forehead. My fingers hang off the edge of the bed, And I paint gentle strokes through the water. You can rest, dear, I hear the whale whisper to me, when no one’s paying attention. We know where you’re headed.
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journal entriessome poems, some prose, some in-between Archives
October 2020
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