7/1/12

Rumpled Blankets
By H.S Wolfson


Twin-sized, reversible blue sentry
Guarding stray remains of whispered desires
Surreptitiously masking cotton socks and black Hanes
And a creased, wet flannel shirt
Plaid and worn
Overtly scented with Dove soap and cologne
Blending in with a scenery stage of love and desire
Unscripted but memorized
Word by word
Breath by breath
A physical, sensual dialogue
That continues to speak to her
In hushed tones
Mellifluous enough
To ease the longing


- - -
I am Hilary Schwartz Wolfson, former freelancer for The NY Times, now a teacher for emotionally disturbed high school students, who loves to write poetry and non-fiction and random doodles and "now-isms" that pay homage to pausing and reflection as things are unfolding. This piece is 142 words, and is dedicated to a broken heart that never got mended. When not writing, I enjoy hard boiled eggs, coloring outside the lines, and walking barefoot. Greatest joy: seeing any of my children smile.