Sprawled on faded flaccid couch,
she snores guttural gumpfs and wheezes.
A warped pendulum creaks . . . shudders . . . stops . . .
clock face sags in disrepair.
Rodent feet in plaster-dust slippers
scurry inside flaking walls.
Spotlight dims. Floorboards creak.
Vamp sounds of decay.
Enter Death as curtain falls.
Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. It’s Quadrille Monday (a poem of 44 words – not including the title – no more; no less). Today Victoria is hosting and asks to use the word “sound.” Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time! PS: after a wonderful month + trip that included a TransAtlantic cruise and cruises through the Norwegian Fjords, Iceland and Ireland, it’s great to be home! Enjoying my regular early morning writing and reading time again.