| I reached across the seat of my chair for one... 89 |
[Feb. 13th, 2010|03:53 am] |
I reached across the seat of my chair for one of
my brushesI could feel my fingers grasp it, but
the brush didn't moveI thought: So this is what
it's like to be a ghost
I scrambled into the chairMy hip was snarling,
but that pain seemed to be happening far downriver
With my left hand I snatched up the brush I'd
cleaned and put it behind my left earCleaned
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another and put it in the gutter of the easel
Cleaned a third and put that in the gutter, as
wellThought about cleaning a fourth and decided
I didn't want to take the timeThat fever was on
me again, that hungerIt was as sudden and
violent as my fits of rageIf the smoke detectors
had gone off downstairs, announcing the house was
on fire, I would have paid no attentionI
stripped the cellophane from a brand-new brush,
dipped |
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