Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Counting Sheep

by Amy Soricelli

Restless in the night her legs run across the bed sheet
terror gripping tight against the cotton;
against the grain.
Dark hallways math on walls;
foreign tongues spoken in broken glass chatter -
dogs always in the pit of it.
Shadows - lurking hot sweat- something she can't taste.

Bitterness stings on the tongue like death.
Lost promises leaving fathers;
back seat of something she can't see; everything moves by the window in the wrong direction.
Restless in the stinging hours of in between dark/light  -
crawl needles up the side;
up the dark deep sides of can't catch/lands hard.
Closed doors/ light slips through wrapping its clinging fingers around her throat;

broken things taped upside down to mirrors.
Grabby hands in staircases pinning against the wall she could die there.

Running in place soundless screams reaching jelly hands grip air;
cloudy loss of everything real.
Restless in the night she wakes screaming shadows;

lips covered in ash like hell.

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