Sunday, February 22, 2015

The hair dryer and me

I love it here in my bed with my hair dryer:
a wind tunnel of warmth in my blanketed cave--
elbow aloft, tented for safety, a sleep slave,
curled in comfort, stilled in limbo, need I arise?

Many events wrought me here to this single bed:
riding horses, swimming across rivers, making
lists, being kissed, saying goodbye, “apron strings”;
taking care, doing my best, saying hello, “death”.

The day begun and yet is done, the bright sun fades.
I, at ease under my covers, a fetal knot --
These days of life for which the first were made are not
as enticing as they once were and now have frayed.

So stay! Lulled in sleep, snug as a bug in a rug,
cozy as it is, what I wouldn’t give for a hug.