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still of the night
by Angela Thomasfrom the bed, to the couch, with organization
and long periods of nothing but the sweet scent
of marijuana hanging lightly in the air, curls
dancing up to the light, dissipating, and my grief
filling in the void. bread with butter on my plate
until i can't eat anymore, and then i force three,
no four fingers, deep inside of myself trying
desperately to make up what i'm lacking.
four am and the perfect time to walk through
my neighborhood, cold and quiet, the glare
of tvs haunting the night's darkness as a radio
drifts music off in the distance. i keep moving
to keep from freezing, from falling asleep
forever, daywalking from sleep to sleep. 12/09/2010 Posted on 12/09/2010
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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