I love the hour that hangs its weightless haze
of yawn across my bed. An ivory wrap
of humming stillness, spectral dance embossed
in thimble-light. I love the wentletrap
of thoughts and gurgled chants that twist before
white shoals of sleep. The bend and blur of night
with loveliness and brokenness inside
soft vagaries that pivot in the light.
I love the hour subservient to dreams,
when day’s satiety leaves remnant sky.
And all beheaded moments shed their wings
into a hushed reluctance as they die.
For Karen’s bio and more of her work on WIZ and a link to her featured poetry at The New Formalist, go here.Â You can also search on her name at WIZ using the search bar at the bottom of the left-hand column.Â Â Karen has published several poems on WIZ, all of them well worth a read.
The photograph of the wentletrap is by Steve Jurvetson.