Sinking into the Leopard Pillow

I threw out everything that didn’t give me a spark

and hung all the whites on the table.

Greens and deep dirt browns and grays.

The sensory titillations of the day

entered each limb’s phantom collapse and gait, tremor are you

See until you are gone and there is only what you are seeing.

Just trying that meant yesterday.

What to do today. Falls the shadow.

Copyright © 2015 by Gillian Conoley. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 2, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets