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benjamin-michael-dunhamPoems
Of the hospital I sat clenching a leopard filled with beads. Father beside me Tapping his chestnut wingtips against the bloodless linoleum floors. It was September. The heat oppressive, Like the Moors toward foes in the Iberian Peninsula. Rays illuminated the woes of those ‘round me. A barrier existed emanating from within Fleshed out by a zeal, to not be on one’s own At the dinner table, as Father responded to a **** addict’s violent implosion on Nile Street. At Carmel-by-the-Sea building sand castles to be --washed away by the tides on the bay enrobed with fire Fleshed out by a desire to be dethroned. Fulfillment flooded the lobby, Father ceased his tapping, A Florence Nightingale lead the way past bland white doors, past elderly covered in black crusted sores past a priest who pours a libation. In to the room of your entrance, Nearest and dearest gathered ‘round the blemished linoleum floor Warm cries hollowed down the halls, signifying your existence Clenching a leopard filled with beads. (Now in the attic) Mother Rose freckled and content Embraced you, as the world still spun My eyes a maelstrom of red yellow and black, seeped streams of grey streams of grey for the loneliness fleeted that Autumn day.
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Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:24 AM UTC
In the Lobby
Of the hospital I sat clenching a leopard filled with beads. Father beside me Tapping his chestnut wingtips against the bloodless linoleum floors. It was September. The heat oppressive, Like the Moors toward foes in the Iberian Peninsula. Rays illuminated the woes of those ‘round me. A barrier existed emanating from within Fleshed out by a zeal, to not be on one’s own At the dinner table, as Father responded to a **** addict’s violent implosion on Nile Street. At Carmel-by-the-Sea building sand castles to be --washed away by the tides on the bay enrobed with fire Fleshed out by a desire to be dethroned. Fulfillment flooded the lobby, Father ceased his tapping, A Florence Nightingale lead the way past bland white doors, past elderly covered in black crusted sores past a priest who pours a libation. In to the room of your entrance, Nearest and dearest gathered ‘round the blemished linoleum floor Warm cries hollowed down the halls, signifying your existence Clenching a leopard filled with beads. (Now in the attic) Mother Rose freckled and content Embraced you, as the world still spun My eyes a maelstrom of red yellow and black, seeped streams of grey streams of grey for the loneliness fleeted that Autumn day.
benjamin-michael-dunham
Written by
benjamin-michael-dunham
American
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:24 AM UTC
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