Friday, January 17, 2014

Fertile

"Silly," she thinks as she rolls over to her other side, bare smooth legs wrapped in her white down comforter.  The things that wake her at night, a gentle nudge, an alert to begin her daily worry.  She opens her eyes to the darkness.  She sees what is not visible in the light.  "No one needs to get into trouble for wanting what they want."

She reminds herself that mistakes can be made.  Her biggest failures forced her to plant fruit where her house used to stand, the one she tore down and had hauled away.  Fertile ground is hers and follows, lays itself down at her feet when they stop, as she unzips her boots, flips off her jeweled sandles, removes her highest heels starting with the back strap.

Seeds in the sand.  Salt water rushes them with brut force.   The full moon sets as the sun takes over.  A knelt prayer pierces the surface as it rises.