It’s late at night
there’s a flickering light
at her soul sill
/
blown out
not wanting to attract
dusty moths in search of light ;
intruders that look for warmth
to escape their frozen core
/
on a shelf
heavy books,
eyes forgotten between pages
permanent bookmarks
/
boudoir
colors and sigh(t)s,
her belongings
a protected sanctuary
/
bedroom
she is fighting sleep
until disarmed and drugged,
she falls captive
/
in deep red bed
receptive to dreams
of seagull tracks
on golden sand,
pictograms ;
of broken anchor
that rests on shore,
windy lullaby
/
morning
raindrops remind
of past mourning
/
then light