wph

Last night, I left the basement light on.

The stairs creaked and my paper-thin pajamas

rustled as the sickly little bulb pulled me close.

That house, worn down by sun and salt rain, was doomed. In a few years,

it would be a hollow replacement, gone from our stale grown-up brains. 

Tik Tik Tik Tik:

never stopping angry quiet 

Tok Tok Tok Tok:

ink on paper nonsense words

Tik Tik Tik Tik:

lips are moving saying nothing

We lie in bed  with our arms around ourselves, 

cradling the mangled bodies of children

 who had the stars squeezed out of their eyes so that, still shining, they fell 

Take one look around before you put your head under and take a sip of the chlorine.

Feel how bad it hurts in your chest and throat and brain,

Shoes worn by angry feet scuff up mirror floors,

and white paper faces with blue lines 

look down to see nothing reflected back 

but searing lights and