The Pit

The pit-pit-patter of bare feet echoes in the mirrorless hall

the darkness groping for a vein
finds it
Oh the release

A heavy weighing on a weary mind

the darkness feels
tendrils
around the brain
opaque

the shadow, an insect crawls
translucent lighted door
rises and is gone

a last apology, a last farewell and clasping hands
he remembers the face but not the name

Painted the wall with all the photographs
without caption, without reference
the legendless eyes and moments
can never watch the footprints on the wall

the room shakes at night
as if the wind had entered
pushed against each wall
alternating

thrash in the bed
finally close your eyes to the mewing, crowing sounds
the growing shadows on the wall
just before dawn
the snaking, stuttering, yet unrelenting dawn

and darkness in vines
pushing through the closed ears
creeping toward the eyes

I’ve seen a man swallowed that way
she said groping for a vein

whispering the names
so he could pretend just a little longer

until all that remained was the bestial parts
in the end
thrashing about on the bed
falling
rising up on the side again
that was a good day

the wood has stained and the lines between
I’ve heard him whisper before
drinking ice tea and thinking of Rhett Butler
every time he spoke

Don’t turn around

turn again in the narrow hall
mirrorless, windowless, dark

until all that remains are footprints
footsteps
the sounds like falling water
rain
furtive in the wind