Even in dreams I am
insubstantial. Flimsy. Ghosting
through a history of rooms.
Tulips droop in glass pitchers.
Cats slip past the plastered walls.
Even in dreams my hips complain.
Stiff. Sullen. Uncooperative. Petals
fall onto hardwood floors. Linoleum
peels, curling up at the base
of the sink. An earthquake shakes
plates from the cupboard. Floating,
I drift to the basement. It's cool here,
tiled, mirrored. Echoing silence.
--
~ SB =^..^=
http://www.sbpoet.com
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