

In the Apartment...In The Apartment Building Next Door: Two PeopleIn the Apartment...
Stark naked at the bottom of a winding stairwell,
Michel tells Lola about reef renewal and dreaming
to forget and asteroids and prose and bees
absorbing heat from flowers.
Michel is the talkative nervous type.
Lola just barely revealing herself
through the crack of a door,
interrupts as he inhales deeply,
tells him of his resemblance to the underbelly
of a whale, or the hull of a ship- something
well made, sturdy, with fragile bones and beams.
In turn, with breath, he tells her of he


SuspendedSuspendedSuspended
I like the palms of your hands-
dry and static. I like the palms
your mother planted in the front yard
when you were five. They grew more
quickly, but you grew healthier- less green.
Good thing we planned this
exodus into the Dead Sea. Lucky we cannot help but to float.
Something from the sea, the land-
they were mockingbirds, werent they?
This cannot be healthy. How the hell did my mother manage
to sink here like a fish
after death? She cla


VivienneVivienneVivienne
For you, conditions were perfect
enough to make you clean, to help
make others clean, if you wanted.
I guess you could thank your yellow
fever- jaundicing you into oblivion-
a glass case and I stare from the outside
wondering, if you ever thought,
as you washed yourself, about the curves
of your own body- mouth shut and humming,
waiting for your husband to join you.
--
The Writer's Club!
~Michael
--
[link]
--
Founder of =Inked-Page | Staff for *100ThemesChallenge, #LITplease
Totally love your stuff.
(this is Ian bytheway.)
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