Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Bovember 25, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

friday 11-25-05 friday 12:27am

no questions wait for soft appeals. it counts clockwise as the hour does. in suspended motion.

she turns over every linen to find the pea between the matresses. though nothing's there other than her own misgivings.

she wears every sheet bleached in darkness. as if her life yearns to be still blacker yet. or that it seems it has to be.

she dries herself in the wind. clinging loose to a slender string in memory when that span once stretched no furhter than she could reach.

no truths follow in heated pursuit. just the rattle of loose bearings as the wheel spins. and it thinks out loud as i follow beside it. even if i could know, i'm still better off without.

because there's give and there's take, but the balance never stirs.

her eyes see scabs where wounds still lay open.

she folds herself into every crevice that becomes. as if she could hide there until that bed is warm again.

still believing that once it was.