“Naked on the bed”

A casualty of clocks,
I meditate silently,
breathing air more shallow
than the dew
that rests upon
my father’s garden.
And it is here that I go
in the bright glowing pastures
that invade my darkness.
And it is within this lonely seizure
that I fall victim to not having set an alarm,
and so my meditation deepens
until I have fallen into dream,
never to wake up—
until someone rings my phone,
but so few do that anymore.
And perhaps that is why
I meditate at all.

narrative poem written on 09-24-2010 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem


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