Sunday Dog

Poem and Art

I offer myself the delightful leisure 
of floating in the direction of idleness.
My bed is big enough, for me and my memories
and all the shadows that washed up on shore.
I endure the heat of the photograph burning
through the iron chains
and continue to drift in the calm waters
of an uneventful day
smiling like a cephalopod 
who has seen butterflies for the first time.
I’ve made peace with the fact 
that life can go on without me.
I am like everything else,
unnecessary, yet inevitable
like a choir of flowers
whose melodies turn the gears of a sigh.
It does me good to lie still on my bed
still as a newborn and invisible like my breath
letting God pluck the strings of my nervous system
and watching reality unfold 
clean and pure without my opinions
to muddy the quiet.