Curtains
I see my world through gauze curtains
wafted by fog tumbling over
itself into the corners of my brain.
Behind my eyes a carousel
of blurred images swirl
to organ music piped into my ears.
Hints of smoke filter through my nose
riding on the memory of a
skirt aflame engulfing my leg.
Thunder rattles my drowse winds blow
through the curtains snatching them down
their remnants strewn across my bed.
I drift from sleep to consciousness
nausea strikes from within pain
emerges from behind the screen
of Lortab.
Attacked by unseen torches my
wounds reignite scorch my flesh anew
send tears sliding down my face.
I taste their salt reach for the bottle
wait for opaque curtains to once more
surround me hide me from my pain.
© cj Schlottman
August 30, 2001
4 comments:
Brilliant. I love this - you've found some poetic beauty in your pain. But then again, how many brilliant poems have pain as their source? I love your poetry.
the routine of numbing out pain. i have a very established routine myself. i like this scene. the gauze curtains and fog really establish a mood setting. i also like the blur between fog and smoke, fire and pain, and liquid to relieve.
CJ, you have painted a word picture of your night after the fire, and it is so touching.
CJ, this is so powerful, deep and yet beautiful. Every phrase is provocative. I'm so impressed and inspired by your poetry!
xoRobyn
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