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