Manna

  I flip easily onto the mattress,

  parachute falling to cover

  all its empty sides,

  waiting to be tucked,

  folded into each careful corner.

  The button bruises of your touch

  shifting cotton uncovers, removes

  knowledge of time.

  The deepest blue follows retreating daylight,

  lightly rising to give night ocean absolution.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  You drew back the dark sea and sketched the path

  to a promised land on an empty bed deserted of life.

  I will allow graven idols in your absence, when you become

  a silent stone who denies the gift of honey.

  Your lies are worth their weight in goals.

  Your eyes mesmerize even the idle, golden throne.

  You are a heavy weight that has been thrown

  into the ocean only to come back

  with the grace that bubble-light conversion gives.

  - Kat Isacson