Poem for the Longest Night


    We sleep,


    digging our heads deeper


    into our pillows


    Twisting our feet into blankets,


    spreading our toes like new roots.


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    In our dreams


    we pray


    to sleep through winter,


    hoping


    the morning sun will open


    the pressed together palms


    of our pale, tulip hands.


    We turn,


    in restless sleep,


    towards the veiled warmth


    of winter''s languid


    brightness,


    and linger in a blanket


    of eyelid red light.


    - Kat Isacson