Wednesday, June 19, 2013

The Act by Peter Marra

the act

a small room:
4 walls
dirty white.
a box.
an enclosure.

he sits in a corner
back to the wall
head down
-it’s warm in here-
staring at his feet.

fly high and stop
can’t tell the time
a tree in the diagonally
opposite corner
is slowly touching him
reaching inside
then it stops

the desk clerk downstairs
rolls his eyes upward
waiting.

bored endlessly for the end of his shift
waiting for the women in the windows.
they stop
they ridicule

the sofa in the lobby held figures
from his memory.
figures gone 
many years ago.

actions escaped them both
it was a final test before
all participants went to bed.

they were slaves of the walls
the fury gang was sleeping outside
dormant until needed

mistresses of depravities

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