At 2:00 A.M. I stir,

between the firm bed

(my permanent hip imprint on one side)

and a cotton white sheet.

There is a sense of movement outside

of myself.

The room with varying shadows,

cast from a light on a cable box, and

the Post Office window.

Two slats of the wooden blinds,

caught in an open position:

I look to see what I believe is a man,

with blue eyes, staring in at me.

What about me do you find so interesting?

I speak to him through my mind:

Are you a gentleman?

A sailor?

A villain or a spy?

“I trust I am a star.”

If I count them in the sky, can I help you,

get back to from where you came?

“You may…

Only don’t count yourself so lucky.”

Oh please, I am not so naïve!

Suddenly, the blinds seem to disappear.

The shadows become wings.

The light:

a darkness that provides perfect vision.

I am not in my bed but the hand of God—

The eyes of a man:

a majestic ship.

Carrying us both, two Seagulls, weightless,

upon the waves.

To the outer parts of the universe,

we go…

but not so far as to reach Heaven—

Before I find myself wondering,

on my pillow,

about things that only earth can bring:

housekeeping, finance, relationships… 

I should have known better than to dream!

The sailor at my window,

collected his eyes of blue,

all the wisdom of the galaxies,

and caught the next passing cloud

for the coast.


Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved