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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
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ROSIE SLEEPING
Your soft clock
scatters seconds like
peas on a drum.
A feather pulse
stutters in your
neck. Your bird-
breath barely lifts
the cotton strand
across your lips.
But, as I turn
away, a breeze
that has yet
to blow touches
your cheek and
you smile, lopsided,
arch, and life
rehearses in your
unaccommodated face
10:10:36 PM 
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© Copyright
2006
Dick Jones.
Last update:
7/1/06; 08:45:21.
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