Sometimes at night
I close my eyes
forcing the window to my other side
pretending the ceiling fan noise above
oscillates ’round the room instead
Our book closet in the corner to my left
full of scents from before I was born
and more from all my years around
The white comforter, flora peach and green
I know there’s never been
sounder sleep.
And in that hallway lined with doors
where once I ran up and down in glee
and once prayed for my mother’s life
I still feel my steps on those nightly strolls
the carpets I touch, the turns I turn
The white kitchen light that folds on
Red digits on the radio clock
green on the microwave
The patio where once jasmine grew.
Where seekhs were grilled.
Gaze longed for that chick I loved.
Eyes still closed, how I wish I could
wake up to that corner outside my room
where the first light of day comes raining through
that canvas atrium, Heaven above.
Astrelabe* 