FROM DUSK TIL MOURN

Her red life leaking out 

On a dusky, sullen Sunday 

Slumped hanging off her sofa 

Me heaving in the door frame 

Time moving like jellyfish 

Couldn’t pass the threshold 

Her face, eyes on the inside 

Grim slackening, teeth on the outside 

And on the floor 

I heard the yawning pipes in the wall 

Windows raining condensation 

Jesus cross crooked on the door 

Swan song masked radio buzzing 

Walls alternating red and blue 

Tiny dog yipping on her lap 

White fur wet with bloody love 

Skin was blotched, mottled lilac 

Jars of the dead on the shelf 

Phantom hand felt on my shoulder 

I was breathy, he gasped 

“Take care of yourself” 

Didn’t get home ‘til dawn 

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

One thought on “FROM DUSK TIL MOURN

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