as a child
tucked into my blankets at night
I'd pick the darker side
of the blanket
to be closest to my skin
I was convinced
it was much warmer
more comforting than
the white side
and nothing could convince me
otherwise
the main comforter tucked between my knees
and the other
--the chenille bedspread
pulled over my head
cloaking me
with only enough space
for a breathing hole
this was exactly how
I slept each night
of my early childhood years
blanketing my fears
of the door that
sometimes opened
in the middle of the night
when the ray of light
from the hallway
slid in
I became
frozen in place
slowing my breathing down
to that of a hibernating
amphibian
who wouldn't rise up out of the earth
until the warming breezes
the zephyrs
arrived and unthawed me
in Spring
my expertise at stillness
was the hinge pin
of everything
my safety
my silence
my sleep
I narcotized
my thoughts
numbed my mind
of what lay
on the other side
of the creaking door
like a stillborn chick
I didn't make one peep
as the child climbed
the ceiling
to be out of the way
of his/her reach
the silencing voice said
the words of the mantra:
please,
don't breathe....
don't breathe.
legal copyright for this poem 3/17/2021/ 12:21 Am PST
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
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MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD