Sleepless in Chong Khae

Checkmate

Last night the wind did not howl

but rather moved in large drafts that

started and stopped as if the world was

a giant chess board and the rooks,

castles, bishops, and pawns were made

of the wind itself.  These Godzilla sized

pieces reached to the dark swirling night

clouds only to rise and be set down miles

apart.  I listened as I tossed and turned

in our bed alone, but could not tell who

was winning.  It was the coldest night

of the year.  I could not sleep without you.

Ages Of Sleep

The young fall asleep with all

the finality of a World Trade Center

jumper.  You can fireman carry

them up to bed, bumping their

sweet heads on the wall, and they

will not wake.

The old wake all too easily and

feel silly to find  themselves,

ha –what, in the world again.

They do not long for being

forever in that good night, but

rather for a memory from

childhood when the world was

in twilight, silent and safe. 

Checkmate   Chunky took off for two days with her mother in tow to attend the 100-day celebration of a dead aunt’s funeral.  These Buddhist death trips drive me crazy, but what can I do.

FG 12/18/2014