Describe a bedroom from your past in a series of descriptive paragraphs or a poem.
he painted the mold white
which gave the walls
a repulsive grey hue
they schmoozed the men
who’d visit at night
i tried to cover them
with a colorado flag,
a reminder that all things
are temporary:
the undistinguished lover,
the stiff education,
the carnivorous fungus
but it penetrated through sheets,
through clothing,
through flesh,
slipping into every nook and cranny,
in the overcrowded twin size bed.
contagious whimpers seeped
through the walls,
ricocheted against
screenless windows,
bounced along the radiator
the room smelled like
an opened old book,
persistent cooked fat,
musty stale sweets and dirty socks,
the taste of aftershave
and cheap whiskey
when the lights were off
too sick to concentrate
breathe, sleep,
heart pounding, sweat dripping,
skin flushed,
la petite mort
staring up at the ceiling
as the mold watches.
