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Jul 09
poem 2 comments
fran.cesca

red brick ribcage

looking through windows lit by yellow light from dusty
bulbs inside as dinner ensues:

a table.
five chairs. 
a man. three children. a woman. or just the empty outline of one. 

the peeling wallpaper is saturated with the ghosts that accumulate in a place after a century of standing still. 

who will wake them up to dance when family has fled and rot replaces the rhythm of life inside of you?
 
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Posted: 07.09.18
About the Author: fran.cesca
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Discussion

Comments

  1. aesythe
    Jul 10, 2018

    There's a lot to untangle here, despite so few words - or maybe it's just the kind of writing that allows the reader to fill in and flesh out with their own interpretations. There's a hazy distance to this, like a mirage. I find it beautifully intriguing.

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  1. fran.cesca
    Jul 12, 2018

    thank you!!

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