in her profound sleep,
makes her watch a homeless man
flail his arms and legs

like a squirel flinching
its tail to electronic
syncopated text

read by her soft lips,
high-pitched, sultry, yet urgent
with conspiracy.

She's walking barefoot
on the cold shiny marble
of the Darrous house

away from the door
that she just unlocked, alas,
to let him enter.

He is behind her,
his bony finger pulling
her elastic band

while the other man
follows from right, a sewer
of wound and blister.

She dares not look back.
Her parents have been away
to dispute a land

far in the mountain.
She had promised them to take
all her pills on time.

But we know better
than to trust someone's judgment
while on Sertraline.

Her PJ's undone.
A cold draft rattles the shelf
of the blue bottles.

The room is immense.
The moon, or the bright streetlight,
casts diamonds on walls,

on her bare shoulder,
on her face floating above
bodies on the floor.
 

jam13