Thursday, November 18, 2010


And I felt myself falling,
      not through
the mattress, but rather,
off to the other side.
      Yet my mind was
scrambling for an out, even while
my back seeped down
through dark molasses air;
pot of fear burbling in the gullet.

And the bedpost stood so close,
but my arms, straining against
      the glut of night,
wouldn’t move any faster.
A woman 
in Victorian bodice and skirt
stood at the foot of the bed,
      her hands wrapped,
her spectral head 
cocked slightly askew,
eyes so forlorn.

And I fell through black.

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