Blue Socks
Barbara Daniels
You, alone in a room:
there are many lords,
the lords of doorways,
holly trees, pain. You can
choose though your heart
is mere marzipan, your mind
a whirligig in snow. Blades
sing, the storm of self
a floating ingathering—
shined crystals in drifts
that cover you, shifting
your bed. Fall into whole
language—Masai, masala,
masalchi. You’re an aperture
through which a field appears.
Night comes, cold, substantial,
then a lit path to uncluttered
day. Go past what is stopping
you—person, personage,
personalia. You’re free
to get out of bed, put on blue
socks, tie your shoes, wash
sleep from your bleary eyes.
Set aside fear. The lord
of work summons you,
the lord of fresh coffee,
the grand bustling lord of day.
Barbara Daniels’s Talk to the Lioness was published by Casa de Cinco Hermanas Press in 2020. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Lake Effect, Cleaver, Faultline, Small Orange, Meridian, and elsewhere. Barbara Daniels received a 2020 fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts.