I Slip Into Spice Poem by Susan Lacovara

Where the dirty town ends,
The dangling dampness of night
washes away the grit of the day
I blanket myself in pashmina of privacy
Stealing away,
to the sanctuary of surrender
A bit broken...
Like a ragged fingernail,
Wishing for the warmth
of an old fisherman's sweater
Or maybe just an old fisherman....

Rest does not come easy
And easy is never an easy option...
Late night, and of lately...
Isn't Autumn a time for lovers
to tangle together
and watch the clouds
drift past the moon....
While barely-there fingertip touches
caress the chaos, like ivy climbing.

Nutmeg and cloves, cinnamon cider
I slip into spice,
that it may loft about
my 'still single' apartment...
Seeping and steeping
into corners, dimly lit
by the illuminating light
of lost loves....
Vanilla and chamomile, lavender, lilacs...
Orange and coffee...
to soothe my senses,
inviting in a welcomed escape
from the asphalt awareness
of having been too long stranded
I these certain circumstances...