Here I have three blankets
  all green   all growth    all mold
  and stained with           ashes

the first – soft, a mockery
of velvet it is ***
and sensuality deep, merciless
                     my favorite
lies
close to my bare skin
a slithering comfort – all
lips and fingertips

next, wide and broad
pastel – to ward off demons
                   I know, I conjure them in my sleep
Patchwork and pure
Forgiving the stains    memories
large enough to hide
the light monsters cannot
see the blind

and last for
measure and pressure
a plasticine green, heavy
      a morning in April – morose
it rests
like a mother, a lover
       neither I know
       neither have
       been quite so serene         or forgiving
as this silence

here, I have
created a safe
embrace     the weight
pressing soft kisses
on my aching body
wanting      to be held
                         cooed, soothed
my mossy womb


I could die
like this    safe
and warm
lied
to only by
myself