familiar dark I wake as usual, the pressure insisting, and shuffle through familiar dark, avoiding cats and the standing fan that can't cool this space. worn thoughts brush against the edge of what I want to say: quickly, without guile, or artifice. I have wanted to become something more. something that holds the air and cool starlight, that holds the sounds of rain, of wind and bending leaves. filled with these I could become, perhaps the person I should want to be. inside the hard border of this room I feel the edges of my body push against sheets and pillow, a worn goose-foot quilt. ©2021 F.Eifrig (From my self-published chapbook of the same title. If you're interested in a copy please message me and I'll send you one.)
I’m pleased to mention here that my poem, Vespers, is in the current issue of Ibbetson Street which is available for purchase at their website. It’s a fine looking issue too. (My poem has a typo which was my fault, but I don’t think it changes the meaning too much.)
Here’s a quick recording of it:
Thanks for listening!
I’m an editor and I’ve made a few really embarrassing mistakes. I really love the poem.
I just sent in a ms and then found a typo and an extra space. I somehow misplaced the second C in raccoon!