Treasure Island

rosalinda flores rosevoc


Blankets


Sheets, layers of shelter
Cradling babies, cuddling in sleep
Nap sack for a journey
Mantle for atoms

Thick, furry, thin, and crust of earth
A horizon woven, a nest of clouds
Or arms that rail to sky

Mat in a wake
Shroud of the dead
Holy linen of Resurrection

Orange, white, yellow, and green
And reds from a hymen

7 blankets washed
on a Tuesday, hung on sun rays
Sweet suds of soap, anoint my hands.

Submitted: Friday, August 09, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, August 28, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I've really washed these blankets. Smile!

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