In the Attic

The trick is to believe that it’s not even there
at all...
Like some kind of biological lightenning bolt
it tears across your face when you cry,
dissappearing as it appeared, leaving you
wondering,
remembering,
sniffling in the attic.
And still, in this house of dreary
white drapes, draping drawers, and draped
mirrors, it stabs through the thick, dusty
cloud, not disturbing
a
dangling Widow.
And tumbling from a chair,
just a push to the left,
an invisible cloud rolls over your senses,
sucking the breath from your lungs
as you try to inhale...
holding your nose doesn’t work-
The trick is to believe that it’s not even there
at all...

2002