Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Solids

her petticoat is thin. her costume is thick. as she peaks in through the window to heaven. her nose on the glass. her breath staining the sight of it.

the blackboard is blank as she appraises the classroom. she looks around for the teacher and decides she's it. the numbers dance in her head like bits of music too loud. the years give in and let her know them. eventually she learns.

the solution comes in dark poses and tattered dresses. the grin of puppets as their words float meaninglessly from wooden lips. in grim hiccups and futile chokes.

she tried to reason with him. explain the difficult choices of skin and bone. skeletons heavy with the drape of flesh. and masks full of hollow faces. but he wouldn't listen. didn't understand. the lives he had created.

she warned him that over was not something that could be debated. no one was coming.

but he's still waiting.