_ cannot write what _ want to say,
_ cannot paint the image in _ mind.
Or the feelings bound inside with thickened ropes,
used to hold a steamer ship to dock,
with diameter of a sailor's mid-waist,
encrusted with salt from the ever pressing fault
pulling its weight down compressing faces to frown
scrunching together in depressing formation as a flock of gull feathers
incessantly wash ashore bringing round to the lessening image
that draws you back from the metaphorical,
analogical, imaginary
oceans edge,
to the starboard side of a deck on a steamer ship,
to the battered ropes
that suppress emotions under.

Under an ocean,
occasionally escaping through thimble-sized samples
freed from the depths to race upwards in streamlined-bubbles
to break the surface and burst
that released
category three, Hurricane Miriam
which harmed no one but herself
because though she roared at one-hundred twenty miles an hour,
no one took warning.
Because who would be wary of her,
when she didn't even break land,
she didn't even break surface,
didn't even break in,
even break through,
break her,
broken.

-October Twenty-Second-
Dear Madame,
Here is your six am morning wake-up call
delivered via letter delivery by the bellhop like you requested
who took the stairs because the lift was out of service
to knock on your door even though it was on the top floor
so thank you for getting him to exercise
because he had to run up every flight of stairs in all.

Dear Hotel Manager,
I send my thanks to the bellhop for his early morning workout
to bring me my excuse to get up and greet the day with renewed vigor
because if he can overcome seventeen flights of stairs
I can climb out from the covers
and face the world free of doubt.
My Regards-Oct. 23rd

-November 1st-
Dear Madame,
As you so requested again
here is a letter regarding your early checkout time
to be happening on Tuesday November 5th
in the morning by half past ten.

-November Sixth-
Dear Madame,
Failure to comply with our notification
has been noted
since it is now Wednesday November 6th
and it has come to light
that you have not left the rooms
and adjacent guest have made complaints
of noise
and a most awful smell that seems
to be originating from within your boundaries
and so Madame
you will be removed tomorrow evening from the premises
by nine-o-clock sharp, without any hesitation.

-November Seventh-
Dear Madame,
Changing the locks is not allowed
and no amount of furniture bombarded against the frame
will keep us at bay for long
please just vacate  
and there will be leniency endowed.

November Eighth
Dear Madame,
We have called in a specialist
to break down the door
and remove you by force
to take you to jail
because by now,
as you must have realized yourself since you have stayed there,
the stench from you room has expanded
to encompass the entire floor
which is quite problematic
you troublesome narcissist.

(Her room is finally breached and her body is discovered.)

November Thirteenth
Dear Madame,
I never did ask your name
at check-in
with your ugly green steamer trunk,
all I could think was "Poor Jeffrey the bellhop has to carry that thing up seventeen flights of stairs because the repairmen aren't due till next week to fix the lift."
And you just stood straight,
with hands hidden in your deep burgundy trench coat pockets.
Softly spoken answers to every one of my questioning remarks,
The lift is broken, what floor would you prefer?*
(The uppermost floor if you could, sir.)
Would you prefer a nice or regular view?
(A view would be mightily enjoyable.)
Single or double bed?
Your eyes twitched and your mouth turned down
(Single.)
And so as you walked away,
I stared at your backside and made some inappropriate inner comments
about your body because you were beautiful. Apologies for that madame, but I guess your looks are what got you into this mess.
After all,
how was I, the manger here, supposed to know that you had been murdered.
I don't know what a decomposing human smells like,
or at least I didn't.
Although I am thankful you paid in advance for your room, it does not cover the charge of having to fumigate and replace the blood-spattered walls, carpeting, and bedspread.
And so Madame, in conclusion to this letter that I am currently writing, I will go to your funeral and toss this envelope into your grave in order to approach your relatives and
bill them for our costs.
Sincerely,
The Manager...who is not to blame.

Note: Her letter was later found in the removal of some desk drawers that had splintered when the bullets had ricocheted into the dark grain wood.

*To whomever does find this,
My apologies to the manager and the bellhop of this fine and fancy hotel
I had not meant to stay so long
but I have been running for some time
and a rest
back in my city was what I needed.
Unfortunately, if you are in fact reading this,
then my past
and my fears have found me
and I am dead.
Murdered presumably by
a most terrifying man...



...whoever he is.
-Oct. 30th