strange how ears ring when it's quiet

places i've been
  places i've seen

waterlogged bathtubs and browning curtains
  damp carpeting and cracked countertops

i've run my fingers along the peeling windowsill
  gritty starchy white paint
  lead paint
    and i've looked out the tarnished windows


  out to green pastures and overgrown gardens
rusting tractors and blooming sunflowers

unkempt wild grass grows a foot tall
  and the wind provokes the angry nests
  of harlequins living beneath the moist topsoil

  uprooting safety

i've felt the wind blow through the room
  cold and salty
like the air of the ocean
    and it hits all four corners of the room
before leaving me with goosebumps and
 chattering teeth

  and the bewildering laughs
of the harlequins that live under me

i have no choice but to retreat
  back out


away from the peeling windowsill
  away from the damp carpet
    away from the cracked countertops
      away from the browning curtains and the waterlogged bathtub
and back
  back to my dream
my coffin

No comments:

Post a Comment