After Blanket Folded from Both Ends

I carried “After Blanket Folded from Both Ends” down to a hallway after a difficult sentence.

I set two mismatched mugs where the light could see.

The room played one low measure.

The room did not call it destiny.

First blue: love cannot be certified by a literary scene.

I sang the line without a borrowed name.

I let the last word fall

before performance turned it pretty.

Second blue: the old habit returned.

I did not call return a failure.

I did not call survival a saint.

I gave the habit its correct size.

Turnaround: privacy can protect intimacy without hiding harm.

The bass held the working truth.

The drum left space around it.

Nobody was required to testify.

Last verse: choose to change the habit named in the argument.

Sing toward the self learning that privacy is not secrecy, not over them.

Keep consent on the one.

Keep the unknown off the record.

At the final chord, the blanket meets at a careful center fold.

The blues keeps complexity.

Morning keeps the door.