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febrile
by Sophia GraceSee here? This is no-man's land.
I have been empty for days,
desolate for weeks and my eyes are grey
the way the walls and floor and sky
are grey. The way the skyscrapers jutting
up from concrete like cacti from sand
are grey. The way skin and hair,
tooth and nail are grey (grey).
Tousled hair, sweat, sheets twisted tightly
between fingertips and this map of me,
rest in the dipping valley of my abdomen,
trace the tiny mountains of bone, skin
stretched tightly over sternum, ribs
and spine. Just a breath, a dust storm,
seconds, then hours pass and nothing changes.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and I,
I have set myself on fire and am
waiting to burn. 05/22/2008 Posted on 05/22/2008
Copyright © 2025 Sophia Grace
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Charlie Morgan on 05/22/08 at 09:11 PM ...so, sophia, i won't need to heat the chicken soup, since you are already burning up...i like the twisty way this can walk...first one way, then another...from cute to visual to existential...good write, charlie |
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