Sunday, August 10, 2008

sleeping giant

The white noise hums away as he sleeps, his even breaths belying the hailstorm of pain behind his closed eyes. This is his refuge, this dreamless slumber, and I intrude upon it, my feet heavy on the old wooden planks although I am doing my best to swan through his house like an uninvited ballerina. I will have broth ready for him when he awakes, I have decided, but I do not know where to find the pots in his kitchen, and I despair of ever unearthing a fresh vegetable or the remains of a chicken in the neglected cavern where he occasionally stores his leftover takeout meals.

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