is not the darkness,
nor the shadows on the walls,
not the stillness,
nor the wind stirring the leaves,
not the silence,
nor the creaking of the house;
it’s the light,
the neon numbers on the clock,
the minutes, hours passing,
the restless worries flashing in my head,
the empty space beside me in my bed.
the decision is
whether to make love
or coffee.
I set my knitting down
step lightly through
the living room
to the bedroom
and standing at the bed
let my robe fall to the floor.
The cotton sheets are cool
but you are warm.
You pull me close
wrap me
in your body.
You press your cheek
against mine.
I feel your breath
on my neck.
At 5am
the decision
is easy.
is a writer, artist, educator, and mother of two wonderfully creative daughters.
She holds a BA in Studio Art from UC Santa Cruz, and is currently pursuing an
MFA at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Anna also works as the Director of a small
non-profit preschool in Mission Hills. Her writing has appeared in The Cancer
Poetry Project 2, and A Year in Ink (Volume 6 of the San Diego
Writer, Ink Anthology).