Mag 299 and Wordle # 90


The platform bristles, primal aggregates, passage.

It was the vaguest of murmurs

like the blush of an areola on awakening.

The wide hearse of your body

swallows my etiolating gaze,

a zenith obsequious in the dark.

My heart lost, scours the tables,

the narcissistic nightshade traipsing

from mantel to windowsill and back again

despite my expressed concern.

Love is strange and grand.

I stand here fading, bracing

praying silently for a delay,

a glint of your mad, keeling grin

to peel back and say I’ll stay.

Week 90

Not sure why I wrote the poem in this form. Anyhow I have included a picture so you can see the room. I didn’t even know Sam was taking pictures because I was vacuuming hence it being visible. You can also sort of see our X-mas tree which honestly went up on the 20th! I know, know but the painting. You can also see Sam’s feet didn’t bother to stand I suppose haha The room had to be disorganized a bit for the sake of the tree. Sam did all the stenciling and decided on colors and everything. This was his room to design. All furniture currently is hand me downs.