Quiet Savage

I roll over in the night —

Under lonely, comfortless blankets —

my heart flopping gently against my lung,

wet and heavy.

It must be a sin

to feel this vital organ as if I were

tossing it, warm and rhythmic,

from hand to hand —

Aztec-style.

~LD

 

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A Door Ever Open

More of C. Patrick's eye

This photo is published here with permission from C. Patrick Neagle. Please check out his writing at goblinbrook.wordpress.com AND on Amazon: Essays in Travel and Humor volumes 1 (Wanderer) and 2 (Nomad).

A simple complexity is the
archetypal door;
passage to another plane
Narnia
Middle Earth
Neverland
Wonderland,
all await.

Death
and
breath of Life

we face this door,
this very one,
with its defaced
concrete-block frame
and the creeping unknown
across the darkened threshold.

Still, we lie down,
Trusting in sunrise,
and pull the aging,
comforting quilt
up over our shoulders,
say our prayers,
close our eyes,
and take the step

into the heights
of the unknown
Every night.

~LD