Long days ago, early in the union,
in our bedroom (mine as a single),
on a box spring and mattress
low to the floor,
a panel of the Taj Mahal
screwed to the wall behind,
a headboard perhaps,
the opposit wall had
a bamboo curtain
hinting at another way out,
eastern tapestry hung across
four corners of the ceiling
like a net full of the day's catch.
It was my retreat.
She sat cross-legged on the bed
and lit into me over some trivial
matter, amplified by
lunar cycles
emotional demons
family histories
full of failed daddy days
where are you
Gone gone GonE
mommy control issues
NOW i said
mocking sisters mocked
in their mocking mimicry
decibels rising and falling
the world falling apart...
I was mesmerized
not looking away,
rubber-necking my own high speed
crash on the autobahn.
It was my first time,
so I might have attempted
reason before parts of me
receded into the walls
and ceiling, and I was
looking at the scene
from far away,
knowing now
the wisdom of
subverting
myself
to keep the
precious peace.
©Eusebeia Philo 2013
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