quiet are the lamentations . the mewing eulogy of a cricket . tiny hairs standing like skyscrapers .
silent is the man . dividing his bread between the homeless . and the birds .
echo does the dial tone . up to the stairs . stairs leading to juxtapose ?
unheard is the wish . soft-spoken undertones . prayer thrown to heaven . a loosed bird .
wetness underfoot . a sodden carpet . slopped dreams . are the condensation of mortality .
no more wishes . he says . wishes . they are festering blisters .
and the carpet is brown . like a sunburn . from a sun that burns itself . so it might get cold .
he says he dances . because the coals underneath him are hot . not because he's happy .
it is snowing outside . but raining in my head . the pit-patter of a tap dancer .
longing . belongs to those who crave . the selfish . desire teething on itself .
I am no more than myself . yet even in myself . I can drown as an adult .
drowns in a shallow pool .
© 2006 Stephanie Dunn