by Kathy Pon
beyond a bunch of discomfort and the slog
towards some sort of body restoration
is the delicious act of napping. For us
high-strung overachievers better suited as
boundless Springer Spaniels that flush
fulfillment from fields or boardrooms,
the notion of turning into a daytime zombie
is terrifying. Who allows the brain to surrender
its powered thought, commands her voices
quiet, dissolves to floating and lets go? I relax
each muscle, allow the power of breath
to lead, limb by limb fall into a cool corridor
of respite, doze giving way to sleep. My body
suspends in time before its soft return to earth…
I never knew rejuvenation could wand itself,
silk brushing skin and tissue, mend the body
with only a small snooze. A soothing midday
cleanse to strengthen the spirit just by bathing
in Zzzs. I feared recovery as exile
from motion, the bursts of adrenaline that fuel
my fiercest self. Instead, its chamomile leaves
carry me into a state of acceptance. I am
the very gem of salvation I needed ––
under wraps. Tucked in my strange cocoon.
Kathy Pon lives with her husband, a third-generation farmer, and two dogs. They live on an almond orchard in rural California. Her work has been featured in Wild Roof Journal, Passengers Journal, Canary, RockPaperPoem, The Closed Eye Open and other places. Her chapbook, Orchard Language (Finishing Line Press) was published in September, 2025.
January House Literary Journal 
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