The Lady Macbeth Effect
What I touch
and what touches me
needs washing
if I say more than
that I’ll need to stick
the bar of soap
in my own mouth.
Lavender and
the sounds of
October cooling
the ground outside
my powder room
I save my tears
because there’s no
one here to watch
me cry. Flotsam rising
from the bubbles
accumulating in the
corner of my lips
I want to worship
something other than
my rancid mind
but the iridescent
capturing of light
catches my mind’s
eye and I
busy myself.
The whole room
needs cleaning.
Originally published by: Juxtaposition