and the rabbit hole
ran deep,

d
e
e
p
e
r

still,

until
there were tunnels underground.
six feet under or more.
and even the michaelangelo women
pointing me in the right direction,
could not help me with their
wallpaper smiles.

time collapsed into my ears,
and water flooded my heated cheekbones.

what can we call this place?
it is not connected to reality,
yet where else can it be?

endless spiraling of curled toes
and misfigured ghosts dancing
on the leaves of trees.

carpeted stars melting
into
opal irridescence...

god speaks while i paint with my eyes
and she sings me lullabies to help me sleep...

but i am awake and dreaming,
and showers cannot cleanse
if you do not recognize the water.

and for the rollercoaster
of updown spirits,
when will my mind
be silenced and sane?

10/16/2002

Posted on 10/16/2002
Copyright © 2024 Bethany Lee