Her eyes closed and lights blinked off
feral match violent above her bed
above her head
Eye of the tornado
Reflections of reflections bounce between the walls
Caught amidst the twisting fates
raging storm before the calm
Captured by the pillows
Tied down by pillowcases
Reflections of reflections are all shell ever have.
feral match violent above her bed
above her head
Eye of the tornado
Reflections of reflections bounce between the walls
Caught amidst the twisting fates
raging storm before the calm
Captured by the pillows
Tied down by pillowcases
Reflections of reflections are all shell ever have.
"These poems do not live: It's a sad diagnosis...And they stupidly stare and do not speak of her." ~Sylvia Plath
