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Twelve months. This place,
too short history, graffiti
across black. Unnoticeable.

Too many times I've entered.
Changing doors. That which
is cell, if not for money.

Too many times-
Unpacked, this grey walls
I learn to call address.

A van, a cab. A car: a
lover dead before becoming.
I settled with my own ghost.

Green cushion, so strange. I
dreamt of this castle before.
Red kitchen; I knew it!

Amnesiac antique. I decorated
new memory. Of my homicide.
Of my homicide, the spirit

still rings bell. Uninvited but
was an intern. What a bright
bulb- burning starless unlocking.

Too much time, time. Wasted on
this resident. Never alone,
never with but never without.

Figure that out. I, a prisoner
of freedom. Fluid like air. More
than these four walls pale

and a ceiling of slanted beauty.
I never sleep without having
tomorrow calling me home.

estherg

10-17-21B