Selected Poems

My bronze cover cradles and caresses my naked body like when an artist models clay into a human vulnerable form, resting gently like a cottony cloud on my stomach, along my sides, between my bent legs.
 

My eyes are struggling to find focus as my mind adds the weight of weightless snowflakes to my eyelids causing them to close like the shutters of a camera lens. Jack, our loyal tri-color beagle, senses my weariness and rejects his pacing with a muscled surge upward landing on his tan blanket, the color of sand, decorated with white silhouettes that look like him. His brown head with hints of black rests on his paws and his eyes, traced in God-given black eyeliner as if he were a member of the  80s punk rock band "The Ramones", peacefully close as he finds himself dreaming of hamburgers and carrots falling off the grey granite kitchen top.
 

My mind floats in and out of awareness, carelessly erasing letters and adding squiggly shapes to this poem. Thankfully when I awake in the morning with my iPhone on my chest, fingers laid across the screen, and Jack snuggled against my feet, the poem still talks of clay and snowflakes.