Listening for sleep
I write on the ceiling
with Monet’s blue/purple brush
Do not dream
Do not dream of yellow houses
paper horses, or cold, foggy days
Do not dream of fast waterfalls
on the creeks of childhood
Do not dream of old boots
or paper mâché bowls
Do not dream of endless desert roads
or crowds of deep lakes
Do not dream of the refuge of forests
or the visits of small birds
I write on the ceiling
with Monet’s blue/purple brush
as I fall away into
a quiet darkness