Warm Blanket

March 3, 2025

you silently trace your steps through the summer door
lost in the breeze, helpless before the weight of the sky
you glide, out over the valley, to the red grass garden
the place your mother took you when you were young
my words can't reach you there

you blot out the constellations until the heavens are dark
one by one each watchman falls, and there is nothing
you stop now, and you rest, content with your work
and for each of the seven days I call out to you

now, you think, we can coexist. subject and subjugated
if my petitions were to be heard, I will never know
you walk in lock step with the stars you conceal from me

breathing down my neck, chilling me to the bone
forever imitating a world you cannot create

I can finally stop, and think, and set myself free
    

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