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Enclave of the Occluded |
the lonely hand remembers
what the solitary body misses
stunned by the long, cruel week of silence
the kettle, forgotten, boils dry
the solitary body misses
anticipated steps up the stairs, up the stairs
where the kettle, will be forgotten, boiling dry
mailboxes overflowing with unwanted words
anticipated steps up the stairs, up the stairs
the open front door’s invitation
mailboxes overflowing with unwanted words
a tenor sax augments the unaccustomed wait
the open front door invites
two cigarettes lit by one match
a tenor sax augments the unaccustomed wait
the pistol hidden within the linens
two cigarettes lit by one match
stunned by the long, cruel week of silence
pistol hidden within the linens
the lonely hand remembers
copyright 2001
Elizabeth
Iannaci |
