Thursday, July 3, 2014

4 New Surroundings Poems


She pries each finger from
her hand – her nail catches
on the last one and sticks
She hisses “Be a big boy”
She said I would like this
But nothing smells right
And still she walks away


In the hallway

I wake in a hallway
tied somehow to this
chair – my hands placed
decorously on the arms
someone has painted my
unfamiliar nails crimson -
There is movement down
the hall blurred – eyeglasses
have gone – apparently along
with my voice
stilled in my
only my nose works
inhaling the stink of
fake flower cleaner
over urine and the
sweet apricot scent
of death coming and
going brushing by
a soft shoe of souls
I have time to figure
it out
I think

eyes shining brightly
small hot hands necklace my throat
dog home from the pound


Without him…

The clothes hang in the closet
Straight and neat
No towels damp or otherwise
Litter the marble tile
Every surface shines
But beneath
A heart beats dull
Without him

Without him



  1. There is a beautiful flow of poems coming out of you, Pearl, and constant movement -- from darkeness to light. Touching...

  2. Powerfully succinct! I relate very much to the last one, of course.