December 22, 2012

Hospitality


I promised
my stepmother
you and I would sleep
in separate rooms,
never touching
no matter what,
though I never said
the sap from
the pine forest
wouldn't end up
on the blanket
she said would
keep me warm,
laid across the bed
kept just for guests,
used with discretion,
never within
her all too perfect home,
only under
the watchful stars
and canopy of boughs,
resting after in nature's
gentle hand, no stranger
to the urgency of love,
nor to sorrow
struggling
to break free.

12/20/12