To set too much STORE in the love of a PLAIN man is no hedge against a BULLY

Georg’ann

Thrown off kilter, rips in my rhythm
Interruptions in the ways I carefully COUNT
proportions of energy influx and out flow

Like a dervish I whirl without a spot for focus.
Demands drip like a leaky faucet, steadily saturating
bit by bit, incessant noise
that keeps me up at night

I QUAIL in my bed, attempt to puzzle through,
this is how its played, GUESS work.
Cradled on LUMPY pillows,
wrapped in a heavy comforter.

On the wall above me, a BURLY woman sleeps
under the full moon, lute by her head, stick in hand. No cover.
A lion sniffs her shoulder, curious, not threatening.
Warms her with his gentle breath, blowing sweet dreams he’s not here to BULLY.
Fully exposed she is serene.

Heather