Sta.sh
i took the whole whiskey bottle
and some dark-colored wine
then changed clothes &
put up the christmas lights
though it was almost spring.
i switched off the other lights
and looked at the color
between one room and the next
in those christmas lights.
i put some food in the microwave
as if nothing were happening.
i waited the way a piano waits
for its own hammers to fall.
i emptied that bottle,
i thought.
then, in the midst of a few thousand hummingbirds
i walked through the doorway
onto the linoleum.
something should happen now,
something final,
because it's this deep into the night,
when things are at their most silent,
indicating only themselves.
in this i want no longer to exist.
it's not about dying.
it's about easing in and out
on my own terms.
i play some music.
the microwave beeps to me
in a harsh, bright way.
the food must be ready.
i must be ready.
we all toy with mortality.
tonight i listen to piano music
and take my food
from one room
into the next
as the hummingbirds
fill the air.
| Deviant Login | Shop | Join deviantART for FREE  |
Take the Tour  |
I got a chill from this, which seems to be a rare thing in poetry these days.
<3
like, ever.
"i waited the way a piano waits
for its own hammers to fall."
and those last two lines really move me to the brink of living, itself!
i'm glad this reaches you in that way.