We could hide up high
in a linen closet where
the snuggley folds lie, snoring
'til the hands that come to seek us
send us tumbling as they shake
our slumber and our bedding
shake our shoulders, show us
clocks and say, "It's noon now"
We could hide up in the blankets
'til they never come to seek us
in the morning, weaver weave us
we'll be sheets, we'll be blankets
on the shelf, the linen closet
strings and knots and sheets and blankets
