::04:03:08::

::: Prospects :::

Her misconceptions take me to husband.
I’m drinking water, goldenseal, cranberry.
Laughs when I say I read “Lovely Bones,”
Her new red broom is right outside, do I need a lift home?
Eyes confer with skirted legs, smile betrays,
Thirteen secs, water-ladder, okay, okay.
Nothing bad can happen to you, she says,
But I don’t believe her.
The hole in me, where light slips through,
Mutters, sickle-moon, avian-flu, run home soon,
Baby-blue. I don’t, listen, or comprehend,
Or pretend to care, what them of those would have me at their parent’s table.
I’ve slept with stranger strangers, on blacker nights,
In colder beds by open windows with pills under pillows,
And pills under pillows.

Written by: ~ GypsyEyes