Coat I Call Home
November 30, 2012
I belong inside the fold of your coat;
Familiar, it’s scented in mahogany, from the rack it’s been hugging all day.
But now it is I who hangs, clings, so sincere and devote.
From the second the sun yawns, I am a captive of the city,
Slipping down stairs, squeezing through doors, hoping for the clock to take pity.
Moving, shaking, hustling, yellow horns & green lights,
But hidden inside the crinkle where your ink is fast asleep, is where I find my might.
Nestled in like a babe in womb, I recoil and hook my ear against your doting chest;
And I am bolstered by the mellow thump of a familiar drum and the rolling waves released then compressed.
Buried I am, in reckless abandonment, sheltered and drawn in by the whispers of a meditative om.
Like the morning brew of a cracked coffee bean and the front door left ajar, at last, I am welcomed home.