By: Lauren Turner
Watching you sleep, your face becomes landscape: I've imagined tiny snow-skiers dotting the slopes of your brow, nose, lips-- sojourning your vastness.
Your walking-around and the thoughts in your head have begun to dance: Perpetually in balance, I've seen it-- Those tiny snow-skiers like carrier pigeons between your head and heart and feet at the grocery store and in your bed.
Where my walking-around meets my innermost is where my ecstasy belongs: And that is where you've been-- It's a weekday sort of thing, our walking and our questioning, our answering and our breakfast.
Lauren Turner is a writer and musician in Nashville, TN currently working in a library. Her previous work has appeared in Image Journal's Good Letters blog and local print publication, Broadside.