Sandy Player


Moth-eaten Mouths


My faint white wardrobe
Opened with two scarlet handles,
The clothes are on the inside,
Cotton, some silk, housing legions of you.

I stand choosing, indecisive,
Combinations cluttering my mind;
Colours and kind blinding those eyes
That powder into black sand
And put space, that deep desert,
Between my right ear and my left.
My head emptied: death to life to death.

Frozen.

Meanwhile, yellow-striped moths
Crawl out your mouth and mine too,
Line after line, not a few; trillions.
They eat, feast on evening suit to the right
And darned brown cape on the left, even the least
They bring to inexistence, their evening dish.
To drape, I wish, on beggar's garb, I wish.

I'm stood staring at my
Empty wardrobe, no say left;
I am right naked,
Exposed to esposure
And nothing.

Submitted: Saturday, February 02, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, January 14, 2014

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  • Rookie Aria Siren (2/21/2013 1:27:00 PM)

    I am right naked
    Exposed to exposure
    And nothing

    Wow. This piece is amazing. I like how it is doused slightly with humor which intensifies the feeling of reading it. You are very talented! (Report) Reply

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