Heavens

I kneel before my bed and pray like a little kid.
My closed eyes squeeze out the moonlight.
My warm words heat the room.

A perception of vast distance forms
beyond elbows propped upon the quilt—
yet a space intimate in its sense of immediacy—

filling, expanding beyond the walls,
the red blood vessels of my eyelids,
as ethereal light brightens in magnitude.

Then it ends. A neighbor’s car, headlights on,
completes its turn into their driveway
and the blinds return to their earthy tones.


copyright © 2018 Kenneth P. Gurney

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