Midnight Vigil

Midnight Vigil

The skin of my temples,

stretched taut into

translucence

where the tuning key protrudes,

rattles, oddly

counter syncopated

with the muscle

my ribs

(so over confidently)

protect...

The vinyl of this Lazyboy

squeaks at the shifting

of my

restless paralysis.

We placed a boarder of blue floral print

1 and 1/half feet down

from the ceiling two nights ago

to hem the wall-hangings

in;

they tried to escape through the floor vents,

hence, the one three feet up, last night.

Tomorrow, when I twist the key

1/quarter turn clockwise (5:45 am)

and prime my head

with water and medicated shampoo,

I'll think about the days; the

cadence they thrum

contradicting my heart's

tap

in its midnight cell;

the two carpet-bombing to the count:

ONE, and-a TWO, and-a

ONE, and-a TWO, and-a...

I expect too much of this

vinyl...

too little of this dance.

I'll find new symbols for pain

in the morning

to wear around my neck.

I'll call them WORDS

and lodge them recklessly

in the guts of my poetry.

The only witnesses will escape

around the door-frame

where our wall-paper roams

unchecked.