this blue is more like teal,
a ubiquitous presence in my small cell
though in the corner,
very much alive with every movement
of rushing-dancing-tripping-sleepwalking
all-pervasive and yet so shy,
sitting tucked away with only
toes
sticking out.
and you cannot escape stepping on them.
the plushness of old upholstry,
shiny where hands and backs and legs have touched,
the lap of home and comfort
no matter where "home" is these days
the magnetic appeal of arms and wings
for reading or napping
or for bedding stuffed animals
or beginning a clothes collection
as fine as any museum exhibit
we all have to sit and rest somewhere.
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