Sickness prevents all effort, so this bearing body must sink with summoned gratitude into the sheets and let the light fall where it will. An imagined Heidi hayloft with eyes closed, I could be anywhere. A skylight shows me stars in the daytime and Grandfather lays out bread with cheese and apples, a rustling feast down below. But eating comes later, and now it is a quickening softness, a garnering of cellular energy that is needed. I gather grain into the storehouse and let the outlines of my shape melt away.
©Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2015