Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Tuesday poem: bedroom renovations

the new carpet
smells like warm ewe
you take my hand
lead me over its spine

to our bed moored
in the small
of the back

now we are riding a raft
the sky is golden cream
the sheep gently arches

outside the buses
arrive, unload, reload, depart
there’s light rain

inside we make our own weather


Tim Jones said...

Beautiful poem, Renee!

Helen Lowe said...

Love that last line!

Elizabeth Welsh said...

I really like the disintegration or blurring of inside and outside in this poem - wonderful stuff, Renee.