Sometimes I shut the blinds,

so only a glow of light swells

along each sharp edge.

Then I close my eyes to feel

its amber blanket s-t-r-e-t-c-h

to my place on the bed.

Every strand of blended cotton

beneath my elbows and heels

turns grainy and warm.

I imagine each granule fall

through crystal bulbs in an hourglass,

flowing with the passage of time.

It carries me down a narrow neck

to where the tide’s low.

Gentle waves lap nearby,

a perfect sunny spot. Rhythmic

melodies drift with the sand

pouring a regulated trickle

within its prison. Although if

I keep my eyes sealed soft

I feel the ocean b...

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