Bats flitter around me in the twilight under our red
moon it’s brilliant I’m beautiful
still I don’t want
to die / I wonder if the monsters on the other side of this
threshold refuse to seduce me because I’m too tainted…………or too easy?????
is this waiting game for your pleasure or my disarray………..??
I could try to pull something more out / stretch and wrap my tongue around
my finger until I choke up words for you
Am I moving too slowly or did I pop too many pills as the room vibrates
(Now there’s a soft hum in my ear)
I watch you stare at that faint hint
of lonely I hover into / I can withstand a lot -- monsters, demons / vacuums of sad…….
but they didn’t quite set me sober enough to envelope a parting
hold your dripping heart in a chasm take it out and fold it over
like a good floured dough I want I want to want but I
birds chirp / angels buzz / perfect summer day ablaze yet
dunes build in the corners of my eyes where
tear ducts have gone dry as bone
Angels creep over the balcony as if I do not notice
they try desperately to undo these little sins…(which never
hurt anyone all that much..…..)
a knock on the door / I just sit…………..
mull your heart around
Donna Dallas studied creative writing and philosophy at NYU. She was originally published in The New York Quarterly and was lucky enough to study under founder and editor William Packard. She took a slight hiatus and most recently has appeared in Visceral Uterus, Red Fez Magazine, Bewildering Stories, Anti-Heroin Chic, The Opiate and several other publications.