She Rests?

Blog146:

Arms folded across her chest

Her feet folded back touching her rear end

She lies down on her side atop her wooden bed

In quiet, restful afternoon sleep

Where her thoughts take her, I wonder

Why are her arms folded across her chest?

Why are they not on her side where they should be?

And why are her feet bent in away toward her back?

In one, uneasy afternoon sleep

She lies down atop her wooden bed

Her feet folded back touching her rear end

Arms folded across her chest

Her feet braces the nagging sting of body soreness

Flowing from head to chest and

Circling her whole being over and around

After a night of manual labor at the Bottle Plant

Her thoughts must be on that excruciating pain

That annoying, struggling, hurting muscle and bone

Still she holds on, and she prays for miraculous healing

Before the next graveyard shift at the Bottle Plant