She lies in
bed dipping
her brush
into the deep
well of words.
Filling the eye
with the shadows
that occupy
the corners
of the room.
And beams
of light penetrate
the curtain’s line
of defense
transformed
As crystallized
shards among
the stalactites
clinging to
the ceiling
The teak desk
and the sea moss
wicker chair
and the white
candlestick lamp.
The painting
on the wall
that’s all wrong
pink and white flowers
trapped under
glass.
Radiating heat
into the
crisp cool sheets
from the
smoothness of
porcelain skin
And the sheets
radiating that heat
back again
making the temperature
rise to a
sweating point. |
Feeling the
sliver of a
chill naked
and a heart
beating with a
raging desire.
Her belly
nauseous
with the fear
of a long
dark
hallway
Her nostrils
fill with
the stench
of a
wet dog.
Her mouth
dusty
from the
musty murky
water.
Her ears
drowning
in the
droning echo
of the mundane
The pillow
is too hard
and the bed
is too
soft
She can’t
stand
being the body
on top
of the bed.
|