POETRY
Kathy Gilbert
Kathy Gilbert
Bed Yoga
Creamy light of dawn Through west window shone Pinpricks of blue, awakening. Bed yoga—three rolls to one side Crack left hip, rolls over then rocks Gentle on the shoulder Three slow breaths Smell morning. Think day Be bolder be boulder be strong percolating thoughts from last eve bubble to the fore: retrieved yes, writing is obsession compulsion, addiction and more we wait here in the dust pan we old, common folk swept aside soon to be dumped manure and moulder for the garden fertilized sometimes a young royal a genius a musical prince, glitters elevated quarks into the refuse, sparks a flame calls our name, purple rain |
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