jenny lynn room.
Laying against the right wall,
my shoulder and elbow forming like hot wax
- against the railing of this rope bed.
The window and the moon,
my toes pressed against the cool condensation.
Rough crotchet pillows with no room for my cheek to nestle against.
Blankets with ripped seams from my nervous finger tips.
Careful stitching, even - even...
Dark green and olive; no cream, no whites for reflection or glow.
This quilt is old and wrinkled against my knee caps.
The light darts, I hear the night-horses neighing at the wind to whistle me
another lullaby.
To no avail, I hear more mice and beetle feet scurrying across the air conditioner.
These, my memories of grandmother's Jenny Lynn room.
my shoulder and elbow forming like hot wax
- against the railing of this rope bed.
The window and the moon,
my toes pressed against the cool condensation.
Rough crotchet pillows with no room for my cheek to nestle against.
Blankets with ripped seams from my nervous finger tips.
Careful stitching, even - even...
Dark green and olive; no cream, no whites for reflection or glow.
This quilt is old and wrinkled against my knee caps.
The light darts, I hear the night-horses neighing at the wind to whistle me
another lullaby.
To no avail, I hear more mice and beetle feet scurrying across the air conditioner.
These, my memories of grandmother's Jenny Lynn room.
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