the elbow comes to rest in the soft
skin coverage of my essence
in the dark, it's easy and free to weep
but still never cheap
everyday is still a word, an everyday struggle word,
echoing like a scream in a cavernous void
her elbow comes to be buried in my chest,
preference for an unavailable, sleeping soft cheek,
this elbow sharpened from years of work, worry &
baby carrying
on this day, of pointing,
take-a-hint-to-be-remembering,
the simple honors life bestows
comes like a pointy elbow poke,
across vastness of a bed of whiteout cotton,
freshly filling up
as I am writing,
with thankful years and thankful tears,
already recording newbie memories
freshly forming up
welcome this sharp goodness
all the days
of our lives,
even those everydays
of our lives
nothing greater than being grateful,
and the re-gifting to others
the blessings of plentifull*
5:26am Thanksgiving Day 2016
I am particularly grateful for my "posse" of fellow poets who have metamorphosed into
friends