memory stepping

published 2007

Like hair that falls into the face, you
are impossible to ignore-my
tangled inconvenience just over
head, nine steps to the bed instead of
seven, weak as I am to walk it
alone. The room is larger, hollow
as a slaughtered cow, racked and hanging.
Or is that me? It's the raw pink that
distracts. The unfamiliar smell (sharp)

I have grown used to. Mosquito bites
beneath my feet make for uneasy
pacing. The lonely worm-wood floorboards;
infested. Memories, like maggots,
eat away at the rotting carcass;
grow more vivid with every step toward
the door. A clown-like mouth mocking me
walking the steps from it to the bed;
you looked so graceful on your way out.