Awakening

deviant art by ThursdayPalemoon


AWAKENING

I step out to water the hanging hibiscus
that is dying
a slow thirst death by the door,

and I am Edgar Allen Poe. I am seeing
my dead mother in everyone. It comes

over me slow with the calf of the girl
in too short shorts, walking by
across the street. She turns, smiles,

flashes a skull grin,
the kind that never fades.
I want to bury her,
brick her up in the basement.

I am supposed to see flesh.
Desire is supposed
to wash over me like fire
on Gomorrah. All I see

in her thighs is a life waiting
to be given. All I see in the mound
where breasts should be
is something to be emptied

and ignored. All I see in her face
is something that will be used
then thrown away.


CL Bledsoe

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