a poem a day for a year #235

by Amy Turn Sharp


there's not much more than this
right now on the bathroom floor
tile tub ceramic cool skin flush
the door is locked
there are sleeping heart beats
in rooms to the left and right
midnight wanderers in search of water
mother
father
little voices
just a little comfort
just like right now
I bite your skin
I hear music in my head
there is no sanctuary for us
we have to find paradise among the ruins
lost in the lost hinges of late at night
steps away from the threshold of morning
when children belong to sleep
and live their own lives  
deep in the forest of dreams
untethered and floating from us
when our bodies find each other
like magnets
and we remind each other over and over again
just what it is
that is
right now