White like the wings of angels,
White like the unhatched egg.
Covered in craters.
Like the white moon,
Covered in craters.
Created by so many former nails.
Cracks created by driving hammers,
Like driven railroad spikes,
They run top to bottom….down the line.
But eventually blackened by coal and friction.
Still not yet authentic enough to be called
Small lengths of cord protrude from
Feigning intact connections,
Imitating inanimate tentacles.
These loose ends,
Once prominent sources for
Symphonies of light
Only connected to recycled air.
And remnants of cobwebs.
That gently blow like
Clean linen hung out on the line.
This is an empty room,
An entire empty space,
Still somehow so full of energy.
Vast deserts of course carpet,
That run the length of the entire suite,
(Sentient ceiling fans only orbiting interpretations of ineptitude, at this junction)
Vacuumed so thoroughly,
Vacuumed so vividly,
That the concealed concrete,
(On the other side)
Shines through like polished alternative ,
Ready for excavation.
Not even some of the most vapid of vapors
Can hide the smells of spilled meals
Ceremonies involving tennis shoes,
(The torches long ago burned out)
(The potions long ago diluted)
And the occasional misplaced staple,
Poking straight up from the dusty dunes of Berber
Reaching for a taste of that buttery popcorn ceiling.
Instead taking on the role of the lazy cacti,
(& even lazier movie goer)
Minus the water,
Minus the oxygen.
And ghosts thereof,
Remain within the confines of the once
Adequate square footage.
Outlines of furniture,
Are now nothing more than spotty patterns.
Even the linoleum leading into the bare kitchen,
Resembles a empty mausoleum.
The foyer door swings open,
(mini-blinds still somehow intact)
Revealing the naked balcony.
Allowing one-of-a-kind scents to escape out into the wind,
& settle in the nests of neighboring birds.
Blessing the eggs and the
But upon this vacant doors closure,
Subsequent sale of the entire empty space,
To some new tentative tenant.
The rejuvenated songs of those same blessed birds,
(Who sing loudest on Sundays, when the windows are open)
Canonize those vulnerable white walls,
…With familiar sounds
Sounds that smell and taste better now.
Providing a gentle jingle for the new painters.
Providing a minuscule meal for the new lessee.
Finding their way into the depths of the airtight freezer,
Around the bag of expired frozen vegetables,
To settle into ten congruent glacial pools.
To once and for all,
(Setting ethos aside)
Find the differences,
Between the transparent composition of crushed and cubed ice.