Dark days
I knew he was dead right away,
my gentile approach,
my footsteps holding
my lonesome breath,
tip toeing on the white carpet.
Stealth walking,
bit by bit,
halting and racing,
muddy brash footprints
in my place of precious, breakable things.
I saw murky details,
a purple face
like lighter fluid throwing flames
into the air,
burning the sides
of my neck.
The fetal position
of the body
looking timid as small child
on the lap of Santa Claus.
Only I wasn’t thinking,,
I wasn’t feeling
I was submerged in a spill of water
and drowned there.
Struck shock, still,
a porcelain doll.
Seconds later, I raced into action
Days, eons of go, go go—
in 10 minutes.
Time had no patience with me now.
I was dry and raspy,
like no fluid was left in my body,
just meat and sinew,
bone and action
choppy and blocked,
hoping this was a joke,
a wry fantasy,
holding my heart captive.
Count nine months forward,
the lights are still on.
I am slowly unzipping the grainy shadows
that lurk like Vaseline
in my mind.
Trying to wipe away memories
that still breathe.
I am porous,
breakable,
Smothered under everything
that needs to vacuumed out.
Still turning the wheel wearily
and grinding
the sharp glass
into sand.