Bid Me Rest – Poetry

Death hangs over me
like storm clouds
I am mere bones
feigning to be whole

If you look closely
you can see
my skeletal sockets
where blue eyes
once shined–now empty
lifeless, no beauty

See these arms?
Trace each scar
feel each vein, deaden
I’ve leeched
blood too often
no pulse

And this battered heart?
A fisted stone, hardened
by years of love lost
beats became stillness
even you cannot spark
a rapid response
no currents

I am dead
reduced to bones
bury me
and bid me rest!

©January 2016 Lori Burks

small stones – January 10, 2016

how is this possible
to be chilled to the bone
bundled in covers
and have burning feet
that jerk me awake
after so little sleep
forces me up
and out of bed
window pried open
to let in the night chill

I shiver and shake
bound back for bed
bundled again
except for my feet
I toss and turn
try to sleep
but the burning continues
and I am up again
window closed
and here I sit
groggy and shivering
except for the feet