Saturday, October 30, 2010

Hotel #7


Are you high? you whispered. The pillows hummed
like sweet pools of lit amethysts, the sheets as smooth

as a girl's long, long back. You worried about cameras
hidden in the walls. I worried that our neighbors' mumbling

had a pulse, a morse-like code. Vending machines rang
robotically, unsteadily, downstairs. Do you want me to be?

Your face edged by the deep blue glow of the pool at night,
how my feet moved so slowly through it, swish, swish.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Marissa said...

This poem is cool. You have some awesome ideas when it comes to writing. I want to be a writer and your poems have some great impact on me because I like reading new ways of writing.

5:30 PM  

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