stacking pillows against the invasion

We ransack

the bedroom,

running riot

down long dusty

hallways, musty

attics seeing

entrances and exits

before our position

can be triangulated

as we rush downstairs,

blockade ourselves

in the pantry

amidst canned

peaches and stale

water jugs and

canned corn and

dirt in dark corners;

we pile our pillows,

a gentle bonfire

catching our fall

as we fall together

into this softness

and pass through

the reign of darkness,

peace resting on our

eyelids.

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stacking pillows against the invasion

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