Stark Room

In a stark room I knelt and reeling, felt the wooden floor.

Against losing I was leaning, praying you’d left behind

A long hair in the brine. Soft animal gloves protected my sores

From habitual picking and pulling. There’s a stain on my mind. 

Against losing I was leaning, praying you’d left behind

At least cigarette smoke. I waited in the dark, bent away like a lone nail

From habitual picking and pulling. There’s a stain on my mind.

Your night laughter strung thick in the rafters like a contrail 

Or at least cigarette smoke. I waited in the dark, bent away like a lone nail.

Pails of night walks, berries in bowls, the hidden door in your throat,

Your night laughter strung thick in the rafters like a contrail.

What if you’d ripped a breath hole in my long fleece coat? 

Pails of night walks, berries in bowls, the hidden door in your throat,

I know I have dreamt none of it. The house has been empty a long time.

What if I’d ripped a breath hole in my long fleece coat,

If you’d secured a clipboard report of my truest, dearest rinds? 

I know I have dreamt none of it. The house has been empty a long time.

Wandering the crown of any tree I was never more glad.

If you’d secured a clipboard report of my truest, dearest rinds

You may have noted my growing lump, my landing pad.  

But wandering the crown of any tree I was never more glad,

A long hair in the brine. Soft animal gloves protected my sores.

You may have noted my growing lump. (Admit it, you’re sad).

In a stark room I knelt and reeling, felt the wooden floor.