Rest for the Restless
by Sarah Marchant
Sometimes, I forget to keep the things that are
precious. Should be nuzzling your stubble
but I've got five questions weighing my tongue
and currents shimmering in my fingers
that don't know the meaning of peace and
quiet. I see us crossing the street home
before we've even stopped to kiss
at the first stoplight.
Had one cup of tea with sugar today
and two without, yet I still don't know
what's good for me, spilling granules
across fickle daydreams and notebooks
rich with white pages. Burying the pearls
beneath my bedroom window like they'll
make the vines grow any thicker.
So next time I'll concentrate more
on your hand gripping mine under the table
at Chinese and the squeezes spelling love lett