Stumbling into Lonesome


Sleeping soundly

before the west bound train shakes

the foundation deep enough

to elevate the marigolds

that burn orange with yellow

afterthoughts. She is breathing heavy

underneath the early daylight that

scatters across the hardwood floor.


Waking wildly

after a purple threading nightmare

collapses, she is swimming in

the disconnection. Barely aware

of morning, but slipping slowly

into every hesitation. She sees the

disappearing dream struggle back

to unreachable prisons of despair.


Active almost,

the alarm clock beeps in a

cajoling tone. The world is a velvet

habitat that has no visable bars, but

some incarnations are more than

permanent. She breaks completely in this

eggshell lonely life. Where the sun

sends shivers to a distant place.