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at night
when I'm supposed to sleep I write and paint and draw my breath into little clouds I can see before my eyes proof positive I'm alive like a tiny self-contained molecule in a deep dark sea of gathering black the night has unusual magic that daylight often lacks and sometimes there are visitors who come not in normal shape and form memories or vestiges of something before that trick your ears and fool your eyes and sharpen all your senses digging your toes into the carpet as preparation for an unwanted surprise when you live where I live sometime its the last place where some people come to die but this won't be my place but it has been that place for those who were not eady last night I heard her laughter like perpetual motion a loop in a film an odd non-rhythm sounding the same each time yet never moving on it was as if she wanted me to herself for her audience a spirit box speaking perhaps she was the lady across the hall the one who stopped eating and didn't answer the door until they found her sleeping forever tucked into one threadbare blanket in the hall there's a carpet stain that's covered with newer carpet but remains noticeable forever how these sounds and feelings bounce off the hallways then seem to close in when the weather's wild and cold and I'm sequestered inside the wet weather and the plague of fears making it not as safe tbags fall all at once off the top of the refrigerator there's one dancing dark shadow rounding the bend of my eyes there's the padding of feet that stops at three o-clock in the morning just outside my door unfathomable whispers as I tell them to go to the light with a smudge of smoke and blessings and precious protective salt I know they know I sense them I'm their invitation to call no use explaining to the non-believers about how I hear/see,\/feel signs others fail to see at all I'd like to turn it down or turn it off but there's no switch no cord to yank being outdoors is the only thing which brings me relief the wind clears the air and lightens my halting steps I'd like to walk away most days I will tell you there are other things in this world invisible who like to prey and stalk so I protect myself don't acknowledge them wishing them safe journey and then I think they get bored... find someone else to notice them wishing them onto better days. you can take this or leave this...what is fiction and what is fact and real experience...i believe in the willing suspension of belief and giving the person who is the experiencer the benefit of the doubt. I'LL LEAVE IT UP TO YOU TO DECIDE WHAT'S REAL AND WHAT CAN BE EXPERIENCED..... LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 4:30PM PST 10/26/2021 TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD RE-EDITED 10:37AM OCTOBER 27, 2021 BY MELISSA A HOWELLS THE AUTHOR. Vote for this poem |
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