Here, it is like the Dust Bowl, a black hole, <br />Dreams snuffed from a candle with an exhuasted flame. <br />Blood beats like a curse, a strange fear - <br />The sheets! The sheets! Twice through. There are two <br />Eyes selling sanity to the stars. <br />Pretty and full of wishes they vanish. <br />Smiles in the dark, hot breath and heartbeats <br />Infuriate its ebony host, this opaque ghost, which <br />Unfolds from the wings of a furious magpie, itching for sleep. <br /> <br />What is this attraction, a poor addiction, a failed restriction? <br />It is sugar, or salt; I cannot tell. A starving red mouth <br />Heats, immediate as a full stop, few words shy of the truth <br />And children don't like mirrors, a surprised face glimmers; <br />Two pupils adjusting to the light. <br />A sensitivity of hands; the clock's - <br />Trapping cartoons - paper people - white emotions <br />To the wallpaper; patience beings to taper <br />And I wish that I'd've kept my head. <br /> <br /> <br />(22nd August 2007)<br /><br />Sarah Capella Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/full-stop-6/
