Wednesday, February 24, 2010

My Tender Buttons...


A buffer between bedsheets and hot breath. A pillow placed under the head is slept on and forgotten. The pillow by day is sheathed in black or blue or purple. The pillow in the night is sheathed rather in darkness not a color but a feeling of eyes closed head on. It is turned and turned in search of the coldest part with all parts still being pillow. Cold pillow on a face is a treasure hunted in half-sleep.

The pillow is forgotten during sleep and ignored upon waking. The pillow is filled with feathers and the feathers are most certainly forgotten. The feathers and the pillow will remember a face. What if feathers escape. Feathers on the floor means a pillow must be molting.

A pillow is sometimes thrown. A throw pillow is always useless.

Placed between the legs a pillow is an answer to loneliness. Between the legs a pillow substitutes for a sleeping lover. In its placement a replacement for a lover is still a pillow.

Dreams. Bone and skin and tissue separate a pillow and a dream. The head is bone and skin and tissue and frequently filled with dreams. The pillow is cotton and thread and zipper and forever filled with feathers.


  1. I particularly liked "Cold pillow on a face is a treasure hunted in half-sleep." A pillow is something that is so ignored in day to day life, though it seems like my rest would almost be entirely sacrificed if I didn't have a decent one. I also liked that you talked about feathers, parts of a living creature that we simply use to pass out on. Your descriptions are great.

  2. Whoa, this is cool.

    But I love my pillow.


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