blip of grace

  

photo courtesy of Creative Commons by AloneAlbatross via Flickr, some rights reserved
           

after Martha K. Grant

contentment stands
in the corner

her arms crossed
like a school marm
watching me squirm

—used to this kind of
tantrum she is completely

unmoved


this switch       has flipped &
i'm in the dark       again

my hands     i've run
along each familiar wall:

you shouldn't have done that
say you're sorry
maybe if i get some sleep

perhaps a bit of dark chocolate
i should go for a run

but no

i still can't see a thing

is anybody there
no response

anybody? 
nothing

i pace     bent slightly
at the waist    my arms

— probes groping the air      my eyes
—radar sweeping the screen

for a blip of grace      my soul

—a sonar

ping