Asana

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I’d crawl back in bed but
nothing alive really sleeps.
It only closes its eyes.

Guess I’ll do some yoga.
Double-down-dog on disappearing.
Be a mouse in a quiet house.

Love is yoga in emptiness,
seeking the center of a sphere
that has no circumference.

Bring it down to corpuscle and bone.
Give it a spine and, like Frankenstein,
silence itself will breathe.

More from this Author

Author

  • Mike Wilson’s work has appeared in magazines including The Gravity of the Thing, Mud Season Review, The Pettigru Review, Still: The Journal, and in Mike’s book, Arranging Deck Chairs on the Titanic. He lives in Lexington, Kentucky.

    Wilson

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