thriftshop rocking chair sonata
at 230 am my eyes clamp
around a monochrome frame
in the circadian wing
i rock my son back to sleep
but the rocking chair squeaks
the hardwood under the beard
of carpet or is it the crepitus
of the chair’s cartilage
crackling in the sway?
either way i lift one shutter of eyelid
enough shift the skates
around the floor to possibly
less inflammatory bones
but every piece of space
between bed and closet
sings and weeps and now i am
more awake the door
flushing neural magenta
under the waves
and when i finally place him
lightboned into the crib
he stirs burrows curls
i climb back into the hypothalamus
away from the room’s needle
which still scrapes oak and femur
and now i allow i allow the silence
to grow a new pool of
nerve
Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as a RN. His third book, These Hands of Myrrh, is upcoming from Kelsay Books in August 2021.