Sheets, layers of shelter
Cradling babies, cuddling in sleep
Nap sack for a journey
Mantle for atoms
Thick, furry, thin, and crust of earth
A horizon woven, a nest of clouds
Or arms that rail to sky
Mat in a wake
Shroud of the dead
Holy linen of Resurrection
Orange, white, yellow, and green
And reds from a hymen
7 blankets washed
on a Tuesday, hung on sun rays
Sweet suds of soap, anoint my hands.
- The fear of writing is not being able to come back….