Once I thought... to a Pillow-Blanket Time

(circa 1965)

Once I thought
To a pillow-blanket time
When, where cupping hands, I saw
Unworlds of drifting black
Tortured dreamily
With rushing yellow train-tracks
Ribboned in and out
In purpling roars.
Red ladders I could climb
If hard enough I thought.
Red ladders I dissolved
If too hard I remembered.

Once I thought
To a pillow-blanket time
When fingers could find faith
In locks of hair
And we were a congregation
Of something slightly more
Than we deserved.
When a minister touched
On something slightly less than God
In a pulpit
That was all that it could
Or should be.

Once I forgot
To a pillow-blanket time
When ghostly figures moved
Through linen mists,
When ticks of clocks slowed down to sighs,
When sunsets were rainbows
Of tears and laughter.

My thoughts are now no more
Than a cloud's whisper
Or the sea.
My lips
Are the ripples of raindrops everywhere.
My ribs
Are sweet white birds
In the mystery of flight.
My eyes are new-born spiders
Discovering the tapestry of dew.
My hands are apple trees,
Their fingers hold
Children.

- Sitaram