“The Pale Underside”
© Clara Riggs, 2010
the harsh dawn hits the mildew,
a spider awakes in a wet bed
and eats last night’s dessert.
there will be no fog this morning,
just thinly stretched clouds
and perpetual dampness.
skeletal veins on the underside of a leaf,
look whiter and smoother
than the fresh morning paper.
upside down it lies and a little bent,
watching yellow devils pick
at the blue morning glory.
rolling onto the left side of the bed,
gravity still pulling me to the pillow,
feet still tingling in warm sheets,
I see time repeating as a sheet of light
rises with my eyelids.
