Inside-Out
Wrapped up—
But not a season’s
gift or warm embrace;
Tight knots—
But not those
secured by steady sailor’s hand;
Short breaths—
But not of
pleasure.
No breeze save the gale internal,
Stirs the
tepid
stifling
air within
Dust piles high on forgotten mantle
Coat rack naked—
Has stood
thus for...well, who cares how long?
Who would want to come?
(not into this
dark dwelling, that’s for sure—
And I can’t
blame them, after all)
So the shades are pulled
Yet one oblivious shaft of sunlight
drops in, splashing my feet with warm invitation
Come out and
play.
