the tree that is not there.
filed under : Poetry
I just need space to be sad,
lonely whispers into the gray rimmed room.
she turns her face to the window
that is not there and closes her eyes
to the tree that is not there and
touches the ground that is not there
and weeps. in her mind, it is summer.
in her mind, it only rains when
tight-lipped white-lipped women
sleep. water keeps company with moon,
dulling the pounding of rain on roof.
she breathes synonymous with the tide to the
ocean that is not there. and sleeps.
in her mind, there are seagulls.
when she wakes, there is a door.