Dead Night – Prose Poem by Misti Rainwater-Lites

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photo by the author

Misti Rainwater-Lites – Dead Night

The night is dead and bloated, green and purple and grotesque. I’m staring at the wall and my lover is sleeping beside me, deaf to my psychic pleas. Please reach for me. Please touch me. Please speak. Please need me. I cannot reach for him. I am encased in ice and it is his assignation to melt the ice to flood me to transport me from February to March with kisses and caresses and fucking that I feel to the marrow. I stretch my legs I twist I turn I sigh. I’ve been sexually ripe for decades but I’m scared I’m falling from the tree. Gravity is not a tease. I’ll be ugly soon, wrinkled and scowling because the world did not bring me enough Easter eggs with gold coins inside. One night could change everything, could stave off the bitterness, could help me cheat death with a sated smirk. I crave him but I don’t have him. Sleep has him and the hours have me, chained and writhing and spitting curses at cheap white paint.

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Misti Rainwater-Lites is the author of Bullshit Rodeo, available from Epic Rites Press in July 2013

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