I carry the secrets with me.
Recognize their faces.
And sometimes their smell.
This remains between us.
Outwardly, I walk tall, unshaken,
my voice sharp and my hands steady.
But under my ribs, it coils,
a trembling pulse that no one can see.
Keep your mouth shut.
I press my palm there in silence,
feeling it whisper through my bones.
Even smiles and laughter cannot hide,
the world’s eyes cannot reach.
The night might bring it back,
or not,
and maybe return to what I
sought.
My mesh-wire carpet has woven me tight.
It once kept me warm,
laid quiet and polite.
But then it bit.
I can’t quite recall how I came to that place—
Now I’m stuck in this carpet-blue space.
Loop after loop—first legs, then waist,
The threads crept upward, slow and chaste.
What could I do?
A mesh-wire carpet feels soft, more or less,
Though the bars in the mesh can still scratch, I confess.
From down here the room looks surprisingly wide,
The white on the ceiling just slightly awry.
It’s not that bad.
My corner receives hardly any light,
But I won’t complain about that tonight.
Yesterday thirst brushed faintly past,
But the feeling, like most things it didn’t last.
I feel just fine.
I’ve been lying here now for quite some time,
Strange, how nobody asks if I’m fine.
The mesh-wire carpet is nearly a home,
In its netting, I never feel alone.
It’s comforting here.
I haven’t counted the days as they flee,
I drift and I drift through this mesh-threaded sea.
The ceiling’s white has long turned carpet-blue,
The mesh-wire threads are piercing me through.
People told me it’s a beautiful trait,
How well I endure, how I quietly wait.
Oh, dear god, it’s strange how I love
my weightless dreams
that come from above.