Monday, November 02, 2009 which the sisters discuss the urge to flee


She enters the diner, a book
in her purse; sits down,
opens a menu. Tongues
on her sneakers
twist like the urge to flee.

She steals a glance at her wrist,
watch-face ticking in circles;
notices that the table has a head,
a chair with a back
and arms to rest her elbows on.

To knuckle her spine
against the chair’s ladder of slats
comforts her with some frame
of reference.

Carnations nod in a vase.
She fingers the blown glass,
its slender neck, the wet crystal lip.
The room begins to hum.

(from Prisoner's Dilemma)

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