IX
Cracks in a ceiling
Too lofty to reach
An unlikely bed
And a faint smell of peach
No tick of the time
No clock on the wall
Nor the faintest idea
How I got here at all
How long has it been
And what is the year?
Disorientation
And temporal fear
A knock on the door
A “Can I come in?”
A sensation crawling
Through all of my skin
A Life in Poems 