red house dawn

languid tree scraping on red brick
and mortar with darkened nails
on branches, children in a
cover their ears from
chalkboard sounds and
teachers scraping
words out of
passerby’s feel uneasy
as they step on disfigured
leaves, faces pale, as
pale as sickly patients waiting,
waiting in ambulatory
hospital wings;

curtains rustle back and forth
on second story windows
where lead paint chips
fall onto mousetraps, mice
forget where holes in
walls are;
gray, cracked hands not
adept at removing cobwebs
from curtain rods,
vision through half-closed
eyes, squeak off circles
on dirty glass to
peer below;

the air is thin for forty feet,
breathing is swallow,
hands choke necks for
some sort of light,
in the house front nothing
but shadows,
nothing but smells of
those who suffered
at the hands of
the sawbones doc;

mD with malpractice suits,
carries his
malpractice insurance
folded up in a tired wallet,
carries a mistress
picture glued over his
wife’s photo, tucked away
from his heart,
his once betrothed is
locked away in a floor
reached by sinister
stairs and old wood;

she sits on the edge of a tarnished
brass bed, nightgown a
straightjacket, glassed over
look, pretends, seeks
help by anyone passing
by, but they all
think she’s gone
around the bend,
she paces,
she paces
like animals in forgotten
zoos who look for help
from gum wrappers
and stomped out
cigarette butts;

he’s in the adjacent room next
to her’s, listens with deaf ear,
he walks back and forth
babbling on about
patients who owed, uses
his dirty shirt
sleeve to clean a
dirty window, takes a photo
and a bad memory
out of his wallet, carries a
gun from a torn out
page, loads the .38 with
paper bullets and says
to ‘her’ through the keyhole,
“oh, you’ll get your’s,
my adoring mistress…!”

Copyright © 07/25/2013 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s