Hard to find space
at the edge
of the stuffed
animal menagerie
that shields the bed
from intruders
like myself.

Eros is but a dream
held against
the ceiling
where stars
without constellations
glow when the lights
turn out.

The window
has a view
of stacked
white bee hives—
the knowledge
sweet things
come from effort.

I go away
to bring home
a warm baguette
for the butter
on a dish
on the dining table
so we may
break bread.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s