8.16.2008

morning

the morning sun stretches his long fingers through the curtains, past the windows, into the room, over the floor, and caresses your body, laid long across it. we'd slept, dreamed. i spent a fitful night, restless, body leaping and jumping with each car rolling by outside the window, each yell from the neighboring room, each dreamtime nightmarish prod toward deep deep deeper slumber. what am i afraid, angry of? the night moon stretches her glow across the sky, glitter shining in places i cannot even see, for i'm sleep-sitting inside, imagining her, only in my head. where are you, moon? i feel so separate from you, sun. i stretch my body around the whitewashed walls, lacquered floors, seeking to push out, push free. my mind explodes in screams and bursts as my body expands and contracts with the filtered light of the new day.