Alicia Stonehart

by on September 7, 2018 :: 0 comments

She wanted a little room for thinking,
another for sleeping with strangers
she’d meet in out-of-the-way bars.

A space for counting the slights
she endured during her time at work
delivering proposals to bored boardroom

colleagues waiting to escape to ski slopes.
She needed a room for stitching desire
into slinky black dresses, another

for dinner meals taken alone in dim light.
A cage for her anger, a den for self-pity,
and a large cavern to hold the echoes of her dreams.

editors note:

Be it shelter or shell, we just can’t do naked. – mh clay

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