wb :

i have created a monster behind my eyes
she is on the brink between sleep
and horrible awakeness, aware
of the old skin
crevasses crossed with age.
the toothless face,
terrible! Terrible.

In the air between us are words
none of us want to say
None of us want to look.
we turn away -
avoiding each others'
narrow, harrowed eyes
that are pink with the ghost of tears
and the premonition of anguish.

is this a worm
curled asleep,
as if hiding a phoenix
chasing the wind.

What do we think?

There is a woman there dying and I love her.
She is my grandmother.

Labels: poetry