Kneeling beneath the Annex

She has realized that no one
speaks before sunrise;

sounds merely bubble to the surface
of circumference but are never

truly
uttered

beyond the broken rhyme
of someone else saying that

they miss her, though she no
longer believes those things,

though she believes that she wants
to be in love with everything,

and nothing, in the same
ancient-heavy-sleep of

chaotic moments spent whirl-
winding around the dark dorm rooms,

while students laden with languid
forethought wander apoplectic in dreams.

She kneels to the closed door, her body
becoming an alter;

she images herself as a sacrifice,
a cold stone in the sphere of someone

else's throat. She dreams of becoming
a wave of Scarlet Fever brisling

the haunted brow of autumn. She imagines
a lot of things.

Though in the dark, she is just a girl,
in a nightgown,

kneeling, and
waiting.