A Message

A MESSAGE

What is the state of this unrest?

To lie in the dark and rustle

To dream and hustle

To rise like a wave and crest.

I feel its feet treading the sheets

its broken chest coughing up air;

drowned and defeated it greets

unexpectedly treading the bare

sunlit water; in the flap of wings

the flipping of pages the passage

of this body the mind that flings

about in bright rings. A message,

in alien braille, fidgets at the door

black silk dress spread on the floor.