Every day….
my bed is too big for my body.
It haunts me and my belief
that every hollow space must be filled.
I lie in the darkness,
waiting for white saints to come,
but sometimes I see skulls in the shadows
and my mouth begins reciting
“Our Father….”
until my eyes close and my mind forgets to dream.
I will wake up at least six times.
Each one the blankets lay shriveled against my side
a grotesque caterpillar to my unique vision
and I want it dead in my sleep.
The clear blood of sweat oozes
From beneath my veins
I awaken cold,
Emerged in an ever graying blue
That peeps from the crevice of my curtains.
I’ve never seen the sun rise.
That red wizard and its sick enchantments
hiding away victory.
If this were Rome I’d see chariots,
and the earth would swallow my soul
until only my body could blossom.