On the Floor
Published in
Dec 15, 2020
The ceiling spun with amber rays
twisted with metal gold sparkles
broken from nights charades.
There were seconds of lucid
dreams, turning to the plots
of the times before.
There was your first love
sprawled out like a thousands boulders
on the bare dessert floor
the clouds shadows playing peekaboo
with the suffering you knew was to come.
Then your grandmothers hands
brushed against the flesh
of your youth,
the wisdom of the now and remanence
of the loss to come.
There was a small bawl of flesh
fragile, at your mercy…
its tiny eyes glancing through all you never were.
As your hands reached for your blanket,
the morning sun broke through the blinds
spots of warmth mixing with the wails from the other room.
