Poetry of Issue #8        Page 38

Reassurance

Her tabby soul is boxed-in
Next to the bed where she goes to get away
Her high-pitched voice sounds
In the empty room with yellow walls
She falls asleep dreaming of mourning doves
Who sometimes fly to the window

Outside is where confusion is
Crowds of people, cars, weighty noises
She will not give them substance in her dreams
The light snaps off and the door closes
She feels the sides of her box
Knowing how safe it is