Thursday, February 27, 2014

"Each Night" a poem

Each Night


Before Ama calls me to write

I am my wife's

And lay her to bed

Braiding our legs

Which have learned

In seven years

How to thread together

Like fingers

Of the supplicant hand.


Her arm possesses my chest

And nods with the rest

Holding her own

And dozing in love

To those gentle dreams

As I count her breathes

Searching the ceiling

Wondering my overfull mind.


I betray her clasp

For a few needed hours

And fall into Ama

Threading my works

Skein of ink, literary pulse

I am Sophia's child

And friend of the Muse

Till dreams darken my eyes

And I gratefully lie

Beside my hushed bride

When writing is done.


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