“47th Parallel Sleeping Instructions”

by Dusti RWF

It’s not dark when you go to bed.

It’s never dark. Rest your body

On cool linen; release your burdened breath.

Fix your eyes on a point in the sky, 

Far enough away, apple-toned and lonely,

Supple cheeks missing a kiss.

Languid light filters through your flickering lashes.

Observe the soft pools of pink oil expanding.

In hushed tones, the artist reminds your sleepless heart,

“This is not your home.” Now, imagine the deep well

In the sea wall that contains your bellows.

Know your soul is heavy, as iron chests, and doubly secretive.

Tonight’s tide is so very late,

The sun will never set,

You are drowsy, dusky, star-worn. 

Dusti RWF (they/them) is a queer, disabled poet & writer living in both Seattle and Alabama. Find more of their writing in Lavender Lime Literary, Being Known, The Open Kimono, and Zen Poetry. Besides being founder & editor of Delicate Emissions, a quarterly poetry zine, they love birds, moss, and food that tastes like dirt.