September 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
August permeates by afternoon sunlight. It refuses to let up, refusing to disappear behind the crinkled shade.
Waking up, drenched in the geometry of light on the walls above the bed—it is a way to see the morning from a short distance.
I constantly question whether I am arriving at sleep at all. Or if I’m walking, sprinting out of sleep into an empty room where I see myself pushing shapes around on the wall made of fire.
Firefly, fly her by, letting it go into a fine ash; that is what flickers against the bedroom wall. Not the sun.