In the small space
between consciousness
and sleep, i am most
myself.
Peace lingers in close
corners. i must remember
to seize it quickly. For
it is fleeting.
my knobby fingers open
then stretch. Loose
skin tightens. i grab
and cup the pockets
of sweet air.
Peace lingers, in the frayed fibers
of my blue gingham
quilt, a hand-me-down i
designate a family heirloom,
and on the brushed
cotton threads that weave
and sustain my Snoopy,
polka dot, and Hello Kitty
sheets
Peace lingers
and laughs
in the suds that dot
my bathtub rim
and on the sweat beads
that line my
post-run lips
Peace lingers
and lands in the wings
of the ladybug that lives
on my desk lamp
and in the shadows of
my child’s gait.
Peace lingers, too,
in car speaker
stereos and box
store tabloids
