Dawn stretches and yawns
in yellow, poking fingers
through vertical blind slats;
into my horizontal eyes.
like an ice cube slipping down spine,
painful and exhilarating
at the same time and maybe
I’m not ready to shove myself out.
Let me be metamorphic for awhile,
lie back in this brightness
and soak it in; let me radiate
warm throughout the morning,
cheerfully light at noon
and erode to dust in the night
so that it all may cycle again
like moon chasing sun,
serpent slurping tail
or a dog whirling circles in the dirt.
I want to swirl, right here
in comfortable cotton, nighttime
peace and the wreath that early Dawn
weaves into me. Let me be centered
in the centrifuge: the stone in the storm.
Kim lives in Gold Canyon, AZ in a four-dog-three-cat-two-ferret-one-teen-daughter-zoo; therefore, she would like to know what she would do with some spare time. Her most recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Skive Magazine, Barrier Islands Review, and Fissure Magazine. She thinks talking about herself in third person perspective is creepy, but does it anyway.
© 2010, Kimberly Keith