"Hello, hallway, linoleum tile,
I can't really see you but
I hope you're there."
Green spiders crawl through my smoked-up veins,
their spindles weave their webs of red
under eyelids gravitating towards sleep.
Retinal film flashes; each blink is an
unprocessed, scared/ __ , broken reel.
"Put your hands," he says, "on mine.
Breathe, look into my eyes."
Shaking fingertips touch his; snowflakes
gently collide with sunny ground.
They were afraid to melt,
even though they might want to.
I wish it had been 33°.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
"Hello, hallway, linoleum tile,
I can't really see you but
I hope you're there."
Green spiders crawl through my smoked-up veins,
their spindles weave their webs of red
under eyelids gravitating towards sleep.
Retinal film flashes; each blink is an
unprocessed, scared/ __ , broken reel.
"Put your hands," he says, "on mine.
Breathe, look into my eyes."
Shaking fingertips touch his; snowflakes
gently collide with sunny ground.
They were afraid to melt,
even though they might want to.
I wish it had been 33°.
