Eyes Open – A Poem

 

Eyes Open

Eyes open
in a stairwell.
Side rail provides
perfect support.

How many steps was it?

I told you not to make a sound.
“Don’t make a fucking sound!”
is what I said.

And now I hear him. We both do.

What happened to Peter?

The air turns violent and pink.
The same color as Purgatory.

Mother fucker. Motherfucker motherfucker.

Peter bled.
He’s downstairs. He’s gone.
He’s gone.

Outside we acted coy and cool.
We were caught in a hallucination.
We were fish in the lake.
But all we did was violate
our only salvation.

In the brittle tree tops:
Count me!
Catch me!
a water wheel turning
under a pedestrian moon.

But what if it’s Peter?

The smell becomes overbearing
and you choke and vomit.

I beg you to be quiet.

But what if it’s Peter?

It’s not.

The walls are translucent
and I see that I am on the border
at the edge of the world
where the sun pirouettes on the horizon
and the violent antithesis of ourselves
is revealed.

But what if…

Peter was down there.
He was with us.
And I remember how he bled,
with that tranced reflection
of his eyes
becoming red and holy
as we turned invisible.
And then he was gone.

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