Sunday, March 01, 2009

Altar


I can see my breath.
No windows.

Everything not moving
is painted white. Here,

in your mother's basement,
I lie back on the bed

tucked under silver ducts,
offering the whole mottled

bag of me on these
delicately stained sheets,
bleached and bleached.

2 comments:

Billy said...

outside is bleached today. powerful stuff.

greg rappleye said...

Oh yes.

Good one!