Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Peace in Stratford

In Stratford,
where the city is two streets that I have known before,
and the bed is a cloud of feathers and white,
there is permission to rest.
It is good to release,
as if collapsing into an embrace,
to offer tension and weight
as both proof of need and thanks for arms.
And so I practice laying like a child
or a cat.
From the window, a breeze strokes my skin
purr purr purr.

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