Patchwork Prose and Verse
Drifting Off
every night, my husband gives me a
magnesium cream foot massage
to help me get better sleep
before bed, we read for
an hour to unwind ~
bedwarmers, we
turn pages
drifting
off
With a hug of gratitude to the ladies at wholesomehippy, who make good sleep great.
Georgia Heard’s Tiny Writing calendar topic for today is Instructions for a Dream. I’m using the Shadorma form this month for these topics – a poem with syllable lines numbering 3-5-3-3-7-5.
Instructions for a Dream
drift to sleep
on marshmallow clouds
chase rainbows
hug puppies
paint a night sky canvas of
glittered twinkling stars
sometimes I suppress memory
sorrow, disgust, guilt, misgivings
I should probably take more
action on like those
twin mattresses we delivered
to that young single mother of
five dirty children in a photo we saw
in all the mess
and a filthy home last week,
mattresses practically new
we no longer needed, so I listed them
on Facebook Marketplace for cheap
the young mother didn’t have a person
or a way to get them so we delivered
them, left them on the
wheelchair ramp to her mobile home
sat in silence for a few moments staring
at the dump of the place, the broken
chairs and table, the dilapidated pet
cage (minus a pet, thank God),
plastic bags of strewn clothing,
home tattoo kit in a bag with needles,
smashed toys, headless dolls, trash
shattered bottles, crushed cans,
upturned cooler, bricks, dishes, wet papers,
random things everywhere destroyed
by rain and weather and wondered
(tried not to judge but it was impossible)
then a man came out with a bike helmet
and we asked if he was the boyfriend
meeting us to receive the beds
and in an offended tone told us no way
he was only there to fix a leak
with force like we’d slapped him
so we left them there in all the filth
right by a trash heap and wondered
whether to call DFACS or mind our
own business (remembering: I’m mandated
even outside of my own county, I’m
mandated as a human being for
reporting deplorable conditions)
I know they’re inanimate objects
my husband turned to me
confessing a hard truth
as we backed out of the parking space
but I almost feel sorry for the mattresses
I swallowed hard and admitted:
I keep telling myself that there
are five children who need a place
to sleep and these may be the
only clean beds they’ll ever see
(and maybe the only beds at all)
sobered by the experience
of this hardship case
rattled to the core, speechless,
we drove 23 miles back to clean
trying to forget all we’d seen
wondering if we owned enough soap
but still asking: did we do the right thing?
should we return with groceries,
does she have services in place?
because tears do not cure hunger
tears do not clothe children
no, crying doesn’t change a thing
Note: we only saw photographs, not the actual children.
repositioning
makes all the sleep difference
in a tiny space
We’re teardrop camper fans who downsized from a 30 foot Keystone Outback to a 21 foot Little Guy Max to scale back and simplify our camping experiences. As primarily weekend campers, we don’t like to make camping a production with every gizmo and gadget. We like to spend time off the grid, using what we have to make do – – and we certainly don’t like to cook and wash a lot of dishes while we’re busy sitting around doing nothing.
Our favorite way to travel is to stumble across a sudden cancelled reservation on a campground and decide spur-of-the-moment to throw together a couple of pairs of shorts and t-shirts and whatever food happens to be in the kitchen and hook up the camper and go. Unplanned. Last minute. Spontaneously seeking an adventure that was not going to happen ten minutes ago. Not a five-star hotel with a restaurant and pool, not a cruise cabin with a balcony or a VRBO with a hot tub.
From the moment we brought her home, we loved this sweet little tiny space. It may look small, but it has all we need, including a wet bath (combination shower/toilet room) and a stargazer window. It has seven windows, a Fantastic fan, a clothes closet and pantry, and a tv in the front for watching church or for when it rains and in back for movies before bed.
But what we didn’t love was the bed. Even though the previous owners had upgraded the original mattress, we still woke up with hip and backaches and never could get quite comfortable enough for a full night’s rest. One of us (me) had to climb over the other one to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and two adults and three dogs in a queen size bed was not working.
That’s when we decided to modify the bed. We designed a plan to extend the sleeping space into the belly of the camper to allow more room. Here’s what we did:
First, we measured the height we’d need to extend the bed out. We ordered four 17-inch step stools for support on four corners of a one-inch Lagun table we already had and placed the table hardware-side-down in the middle of the stools.
Next, we measured the cushion width we’d need and saw that the cushions from the front table would work if doubled-up, so we added two on the bottom and two more on top of those cushions to level the cushion surface flush with the mattress and foam topper.
Since there appear to be no T-shaped sheets anywhere, we added a separate fitted sheet over the cushions and each took one sheet and one blanket to cover our space as we repositioned, eliminating any cover thieves who may be lurking with an eye to steal the other’s covers in the dead of night.
We think we’ve found the solution that will allow us to keep this camper for a longer time before we try another camper. We’re keeping careful notes of what we like and don’t like, but for now we think we’ve adapted a winner. And the only purchase we had to make, the step stools, double as chair-side coffee tables and foot props for when we’re in the camp chairs outside doing absolutely nothing.
For Day 1 of the June Open Write, Dr. Sarah J. Donovan of Stillwater, Oklahoma invites us to write poetry using the mentor poet June Jordan’s poetry. You can read Sarah’s full prompt here.
Now This
these nights
they are
hormonal hot
flash hell ~
flapping bedbirds
fluffing sheets
sleeplessly
in all the heat
and rumble
of the dark
these nightmares
they rage in ~
nocturnal carnage
at the screaming
speed of melatonin
on the yellow
eyes of a
Great Horned
Owl in a
trembling tree hollow
these scarecrows
they lurk now
in apocalyptic meadows
where as children
we found
peaceful slumber
we called
sweet dreams ~
all those sugarplums
that once danced
in our heads
~ now this
Day 1:
around midnight
over the sound machine
something woke me
I heard it ~
the bumping
at first
I thought it was
in the attic
(a squirrel? raccoon?)
something bigger than
the occasional field mouse
so common on our farm
but then
it was at my
head, behind the wall
my husband
heard it too
sprang into action
flipped the switch
floodlights revealing
a herd of cows
grazing in the grass
inches from our windows
two bulls
one black and white
one milk and dark chocolate
matching my leather purse
from White Oak Pastures
in South Georgia
my husband gave me last Christmas
I’d heard closer than usual mooing
from Wayne and Janice’s field
right at the fence line
behind our barn
earlier in the day
It’s okay, I told him~
probably Wayne’s cows
we’ll call in the morning
right now it’s a win-win
they’re cutting the grass
their midnight snack
we settled back in
mended our broken sleep
#messages in the madness
The melatonin was working fine, just fine, I thought, but I figured either we had a rogue sound machine with broken buttons or that one of the machines was possessed. I kept hearing things, but my husband didn’t. Just like when the car starts making a sound, only not a car but a tiny little white noise machine.
So finally, finally – – he in his melatoninlessness began hearing mysterious sounds, too. I didn’t know whether to cry, be scared, or celebrate.
If your children tell you they hear funny voices at night, believe them and check the sound machine. They’re in there.
our old fan broke
but our new fan was too quiet
(they don't make 'em like they used to)
so
we bought a second
sound machine
the kind for babies
with the white noise
so we can both sleep
if one of us is traveling
but now I’m hearing
what he
can’t make out
in all the white noise
in this Sound Spa machine
we both hear
all the usual things: rain, thunder, waves
crashing, crickets chirping, owls hooting
but I roll over half asleep
and I hear
these:
computer printer printing
washing machine
pulsing monitor
injured animal
Moaning Myrtle
steel drums
robot sirens
Amazon notifications
vintage typewriter return dings
disco beats
messages in the machine
heard by one unpillowed ear
I'm afraid next I'll hear a murder
or a confession
or a ghost of a soldier who stood where I now sleep
looking for his lost buttons
and his lost love
no sleeping here
Common Threads 