nightgown/woman/lament | hair/brush/scent | a poem

she got out of bed

and waited for her life to end

*

watched people talk about things on television

that she never dared to address herself

*

at some point the open truth became more comfortable

she stopped bothering to swipe everything under the rug

*

here’s the dirt, rub your faces in it

take me home

*

finally the outside matched the inside

a woman waiting in her bed

*

a house that was torn apart by loss and abandonment

snapshot memories decorating a photo album

*

time unburied the truth, time showed up on people’s faces

everything undocumented, unmentioned

*

the oversized house, its beauty decayed

her eyes had death in them

*

she had already seen the other side

her body jumped up

*

bring me back

who she was had vanished from her face

*

was it her body that meant so much to me

or was it her apart from all the distractions

*

was it not her

her powdery scent, her worker’s hands, her sweet tooth

and her charming ways

*

what she wasn’t she left behind

and what she had always been had never left

*

she walks with me, weightlessly

and her voice is still the same

*

we chose one another somewhere else

she buried herself inside of her body

and planned her own funeral at the breakfast table

and waited, fascinated by her own death

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2021 | Instagram: @melpomenepaintings

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