The Tiny Room

I have spent years in the tiny room

of my maze, dragging body bags

down the hall, cutting notches in the bed frame

inside my cell walls. From my perch I hear the alarm 

of morning magpies and the soft glass 

melody of baby 

teeth kissing the slick wood floor.  I devour

the wet footsteps of estranged friends

dancing by my tiny room, and I search 

wildly for warm air in the deep 

jade sea of the world. 

Reviews

[victoria]

''...the soft glass melody of a baby teeth kissing the slick wood floor'' great line here,

[p.kuhl]

thank ya

[victoria]

I came back for another read, I think we have tiny rooms...several even....repositories of our self.