I hide inside watching from the stained glass eyes 500 shades of red dance with 500 shades of gray The last festival of humility With just enough room for a baby’s first breath… Mama, Papa don’t come home Arch my recollection in two Bent over at war with pink porcelain greeting card of the viewing that you see now Please sign in so it’s known who’s laughing Strings from the hair of the eleventh prophet stretched and strung across the smile Fingering sorrow’s harp My fingers now cracked and blistered Call the pain master and I’ll bow at request Silver stares back before it browns and crusts Silver still reflects the spillage The calm How many times will I circle this room and yet never move once Tranquillity of the flesh, water, and tile Flesh, water, and tile Flesh, water, and tile You would think it could get no worse. It will