Percolate

There’s sand in my sheets where I’ve
carried the grit of travel
into fiber
into home
strange
a threshold crossed
seamlessly, Virginia’s
in the kitchen
Georgia spilt atop the hutch

the sheets are dusted, a
comfortable grain against
well-worn skin
calves, unshaven
and I’m the sand
in someone else’s bed

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s