Silver

I'm being heavy on the bed
beneath this Sunday morning breeze,
it's curvy hips weighs me down
under my ambitions. Marooned,
they can frolic with the curtains. Me?
I let the remote slip to the carpet--
I haven't dozed off again,
there's simply no new woes on the TV.
I'm suppose to fold bath towels.
I could spread the bed with fresh sheets,
but it's quite made actually,
with my crooked legs and elbows.
I'll lay here till noon, after the sun
untangles from our lemon tree.
Maybe no one will knock,
and I can stay here in limbo.

kc