Reciting poems
about a life that feels unadorned,
a resilient beast -
a dumbwaiter of sorts
that lifts and plummets,
like a Devil's houseguest
that waits to be filled
then coaxed along,
floor to floor,
suspended with alcohol;
a delivery, a service,
a box to be rummaged through,
indifferent, no different
from these poems,
first carressed
then cast to the floor.
YOU ARE READING
Bedtime Prophecies
PoetryPoetic perceptions from a dissociative identity poet. Clearing the wardrobe to find a missing ring; found you instead in my discard pile.
