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Inertia has me prisoner

Glued to the bed long after

I should have arisen

Captured by an invisible powerful pull

Sometimes I sleep.

My need is rarely satisfied. 

Sometimes I glimpse the chaos and suffering of the world and

I have to disappear somewhere that it can’t reach me.

It may be cowardly but it’s true.

Most often I read novels. 

For years and years all I read was realistic fiction but now reality is too painful 

even if it’s fictional because I know at the heart of all fiction is truth. 

Now my books are populated by wizards and witches. 

Which makes me consider my own witchy tendencies and talents. 

Witch has always been another word for a woman 

Who stands on her own 

Who knows things about people and the world

Who doesn’t care to conform

All of which is threatening to men

My books follow the paths of magical creatures who actually face human choices and consequences, or maybe they are universal choices and consequences 

because we have no way of knowing 

what goes on in the minds of vampires and demons 

and there is plenty in the world 

that we don’t have to see with our eyes 

to believe in.

When I require a break from the plot, 

I wade into an endless stream of crosswords, 

a reliable source of immediate endorphins.

There I frequently encounter familiar characters such as Brian Eno and Uma Thurman and Che Guevara 

and any of the King Olavs and Pope Leos and always a czar or tsar in the mix. 

I spy many an imp, some tots on trikes, and French and Spanish ladies, both married and unmarried. 

I often visit Erie (the lake, the city, and the county), I hear the echo of Caesar’s last words, many formulations of the Latin word for egg, and at least two ways to end a list. 

I gaze at the bear in the sky and the guy with the belt. I am reminded of campaign slogans from before I was born and what to say when someone is sharing more than you want to hear and any number of Australian animals. 

Occasionally, the two names of our current domestic terrorists come up, 

even though I’m deep in the crossword archives when they were once 

seemingly harmless rich idiots. 

Harmless no more. 

Eventually I am able to extract myself from the bed and go about my business

There are always more demands

on my attention

Than I can satisfy 

Which is why the temptation 

to hide under the covers

remains.