Poem #8: Dirt Room

Dirt Room

A thousand windows open
Breathing tropic air,
Stale with time

It whisperbrushes
Your pale, lost face
The bones beneath,
The dirt floor.

Fingers sweeping
Dust from corners
And shaking
Leaves dry and spent
Exhaling like
Winter is over
At last

Light filters
Like ocean drains,
Like sunshine never
Comes this way,
Like you are never
Alone.

Mumble softly,
Tell the dark
To go away, and
Try to stop
Your own eyes
From closing to
The windowpanes.

I dare you to leap through
And flee
Alone.

And I dare you
To breathe you own oxygen
To move from the shadow,
To dance in the center
To shed your skin
And sweat out life.

You will sit in the room
With its death floor, window eyes
Waiting for someone
To lead you out blind.


***
This poem was loosely inspired by the song 'Dirt Room' by Blue October.