The Poetry I Write When The World Collapses

The Disaster Cover

This is my blanket

My daughter called it a blankie when she was a baby

Now I feel babyish and call it the same

You can get underneath my blankie, like so-

Or I can embrace you with it-

You’ll feel warmer

You’ll feel babyish

You’ll fall on top of me like an exhausted lover, under my cover, and

I’ll feel the weight of your world crumble on top of me.

We’ll both feel safer, in a blanket

Even though nothing has changed

Your side will be by mine and and that’s the final place I want it

This side of my blanket

is the soft part, the part you hold against your cheek when all the other soft parts get

blown to bits

And this side of the blanket

is the fuzzy part-

the side that stays fuzzy even when the picture elsewhere gets all too clear

Here’s the dark part of my blanket

The place where I wanted to rest my eyes forever-

But my memories leaked in like sunlight,

And my eyes grew so red they’ll never sleep the same again