Snapshot Poem 12 July 02017

    

I sleep through the thunderstorm, the full

moon, the fireworks, the earthquake.

 

In the morning, I move through this dim house,

shutters closed against the heat, straightening

 

pictures and nudging things back to where

I decide they belong. Cats weave between

 

my feet. All is in disarray, surfaces cluttered

with paper and old mail. My hair falls in my eyes.

 

I cannot see. My heart, recently opened, whispers

and moans. It keeps happening, this sleeping, this

 

waking, these futile attempts to put things in order.