My Little Glass Room

My little glass room.

Viga ceilings and bright light.

Afternoon sun makes it hot

Fans in the window temper the heat.

I love it so much I don’t want to leave.

I read

I nap

 I sweat

I feel my solitude.

Like the last queen of Hawaii,

Liliuokalani.

I write in my upstairs bedroom, a prisoner.

Sitting on the toilet,

open window doors frame

the muted greens, reds, and blues on

brown of the desert.

I awake to sunlight and smell bacon beckoning.

But I resist

savoring my last moment in bed.