“Not Sleep,” a Poem, Published in Cagibi Literary Journal

My poem, “Not Sleep,” was published in Cagibi, a Literary Space last summer.  I didn’t realize, since I am rather new to publishing, that I could promote published works. So I am now.

I should try writing a happy or humorous poem, perhaps.  I am a joyful person often, but write to help understand life and especially losses.  So I don’t write that many happy poems. I do write humor fiction and nonfiction, however.

As to this poem, I wanted to honor and show respect for long term relationships. I hope I have done so here.

Thanks for reading!

Laura

 

NOT SLEEP

A face in the window
listening to the high pitch of crickets,
low tones of frogs.
Fireflies blink and I think
I should sleep
but Venus has risen
and the silence of navy skies calls.

I hear your deep cough
know you have
put pillow to mouth.
I check forehead
bring cool cloths and water.
You kiss my hand
tell me you are fine, tell me
go back to the night.

I stay
awake, alone
listening.

Hours later
delight at the open window:
robins’ morning song.

You arise, sit next to me
try to stop shivering
as we remember winter
when this window was ice-locked.

Listen,
you whisper between coughs,
It’s lovely.

We wait together
to start our day,
tiptoe breathing.

Laura Lee is a Chicago area poet, college student mentor and instructor, literacy tutor, and writer. Her poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have been published in print and online journals in the US, the UK, New Zealand, Greece, and India. Literacy in all its forms is her passion. For a complete list of publications, visit her website at: http://lauraleewriterpoeteducator.com. Follow Laura Lee on Twitter @LauraLe97942016.

“They Left the Bed” Published at Willowdown Books, Poetic Bond VIII

This poem was inspired by a photo in an ekphrastic poetry contest.  While I did not win the contest, I thought it was a good poem so submitted elsewhere.    You should have see the photo!  Desolate, reminiscent of something vaguely wartime.

 

Willowdown Books published the poem in Volume VIII, Poetic Bond late in 2018.   As rights have reverted to me, I post it here just because.

 

Thanks for reading!

Laura

They Left the Bed

They left the bed, he said
As I was thinking the same.
And wonderful
TV, one chair,
a painting.

Sometimes
we made up names
for each other
on cold nights on strange floors
but knew better than to know.

What’s that on the bed, he said?
And we were afraid to look
blood spatters or bone dust
police matters or lone lust
we’d seen it all by then.

I’ll take the floor, he said.
I wish I hadn’t seen the bed.
Moved closer to the painting:
A Renoir? I know I knew
In another life.

Not romantic enough,
he said,
a Monet is my guess
but the colors are all off.

The colors are all off
cold nights on strange floors
blood spatters or bone dust
police matters or lone lust
we’d seen it all by then.