sitting in the red room
smell of burning bread
familiarity rushed back
so swiftly that I
was taken of word, of thought
momentary, my reprieve
before I heard the urgings
of a world beyond within
seeking retrieval of
some imagined asset
to waste, to use,
to dance along their hurried strings
and surrender myself, again
but they do not know
the stirrings of a quiet soul
they do not know the words that fall
from cunning hand, to tender lip
with you I share a secret smile
I breathe my counted breaths
in a sanctuary of intentional design
washed clean of exterior impurity
of the face they would know
the voice of the observed
and I gratefully return
to where only you could find me

© M. Black, 2016 All rights reserved.


3 thoughts on ““Ablution”

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