Don’t think about it before you are there

January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

In the bathroom, rose petals spilled from the sink and toilet and bathtub, the window boarded up. The smell from the roses.

Earlier that day I had found a goose skull, fragile and white, but I left it there, beside the dried out marsh, or some sort of land the tide no longer covered.

I wanted you there. Here. Wanted to push you inside the bathroom of that abandoned house. Close the door on you. Tell you to rub yourself with the flowers until you were clean.

I am aching all over, wrist, ankle, back—all swollen. The wrist and ankle you can grasp and squeeze, but the back is harder. I think about that white skull, my own bones.

Thoughts all of hesitation.

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