Sleeping is the only way to demonstrate trust. You must find a formation and rest the mind against it. While sleeping, you are vulnerable. Small excuses could crawl on you. Reasons, with their rapaciousness, could flit away with your change. Though the world appears to retain its shape, it doesn’t have the constitution not to. The sleeping you did as a child doesn’t count. Your parents unfolded trust from its cloth napkin. Your sister would wake you by asking if you were awake. Neither can you, by pretending to sleep, pretend to demonstrate trust. The eyes can be too closed. In the humid season, doors make an unpleasant, unsticking sound by swelling at the hinges. You cannot sneak through your life.
from Poetry Northwest 12.1 Summer & Fall 2017More by Christopher Kondrich from the library
Copyright © Christopher Kondrich
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.