Sensitive, 1986

1986 photo for sensitive

In Mommy’s tall bed

I lay still and silent

while she drifts off to sleep beside me.

She strokes my ear

again and again

like wipers on a windshield

and though I want so much to be close

it almost hurts

like when she made me lay down

for a nap by the box fan

and I couldn’t sleep

for the hard floor

the rattling blade

and the sharp breeze.

I count her strokes:

ten, fifteen, twenty

then try to focus

on the sound like ocean waves

passing over and over.

But her touch is too much

and I gently wriggle away

glad she is too sleepy to ask why.

I tiptoe to my own bed

and lay to one side

placing my hand still and firm

on my sore ear

to calm the feeling.

 

Copyright 2016 Sarah Geringer.

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