Lynette Baker Varnon poem: “I RUB HER BACK IN CIRCLES UNTIL SHE FALLS ASLEEP”
“I Rub Her Back in Circles until She Falls Asleep” I rub circles on her back. The sun. October’s orange moon. O’s, an ocarina’s song. The full mouth of the opera singer, her aria. I rub bursting summer poppies on her back; Mylar balloons and biscuits. Apples before we make the sauce. The tires of my silver car she can recognize in a full parking lot. I rub the droplets of mist in the clouds we flew above in that blue plane, the fiery berries we throw in the water fountain, the docile ladybug she met in a story book, the very molecules of our joint being and belief. I rub the earth, its mysteries; the face of the clock that comes to mean little more than seasons passing. On her back, I rub circles. Her eyes, their intricate cities. I rub her back until she falls asleep.
— Lynette Baker Varnon