In My Room

The Daily Post

The air is hot, dense, and toxic,
I feel my lungs boiling then shriveling.
The lace curtains my grandmother made sparkle

and flash like fireflies, then
disintegrate.
A smoldering pillowcase
Scorches the bedspread as
the flames take over, buckling
the door and wrinkling the walls.

Everything is screaming.

 

Susan Marie Shuman

One Comment Add yours

Tell it like it is

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s