The Wabi-Sabi Writer

Is there anything

so soothing

as slipping

into 

clean

sheets

cool weaved cotton

satin smooth

against skin

an evening embrace

inviting one

but to dream

or perhaps

to give

one's worth

in salt

shared sweet sweat

unless of course you mean....

her laugh 

throaty

and

low

the cured crisp

tight weave

well pounded

 pulp pressed

paper

oh here beckons 

so much more 

than the dampness

left by our tangled bodies

here 

our salt streams

beneath each snarled lash

so long 

last touched

here

the blue

 pulls and pools 

oh sweet one

here

please come

here

how 

unrelenting 

words

breathe

our 

last

breath

our blood

stains

here

we rust

October 2026 Poetry Project

Day 2 of 31