Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Safer Than This (Day 391)

I wish the world felt 
safer than this 
where, every evening, 
I lay my head amidst 
a firestorm of wild mustangs, 
steely hooves trailing sparks, 
thundering without warning 
down the narrow, 
perfumed path that 
no longer bears the weight 
of my few belongings

where yellowing bottles 
of laudanum dreams 
offer an ease, akin to 
daylight’s first soft fingers 
tickling my cheek, warm 
as laughter under the covers, 
last night’s violet silk 
shimmying on the bedpost 
in a lingering echo of smoke 
and dancehall jazz 

where hungry wolves, 
roused from their dens 
in the frozen woods, pace 
through the long, winter nights
—their claws puncturing 
the tense, icy crust 
with each step—waiting for me 
to emerge into the cold

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Bhakti2/Pixabay