The 60-Second Sabbath

bed

  • Dialogue with My Muse

    My muse returned,and so I asked,"Where have you been?"     Waiting here beneath the din.    Waiting for the crowds to pass.    Waiting for the wounds to heal,    the edges of the cuts to seal. "But I'm… Continue reading

  • A Caution for Parents

    That something lived beneath my bedwas simply not the question."That thing is all inside your head,"was Mama's stern suggestion. But then one evening while she frownedbeside the bed and lectured,it grabbed her ankles, pulled her down,as I had long conjectured.… Continue reading

  • A Cat Warms My Feet

    Under the coversa cat stretches over my feet,warming them on a cold February nightwhile snow flies beyond the patio door beside the bed.  A cat warms my feet.A cat warms my feet. I want nothing more. Text and image © 2012… Continue reading

  • Unlike the Dog

    Unlike the dog,who resents being crated for the night,I ease willinglyinto my four-poster,where metal trellis and faux vines frame me,and I am angel safe. From the four upper railshang talismans: a string of Tibetan prayer bells–tiny and tingling–scatter intentions; a… Continue reading

  • I Lay on My Back

    I lay on my back in bedand reach one arm upward,holding my hand open:"Take it," I whisper to God,"Just this once,grasp mine in yours;then I will be certain." My hand hangs suspended,waiting. It's easy to do this–try it some night–for… Continue reading

  • My Hand Moves

    My hand moves under the dark covers… Continue reading