Safe Place

The large iron safe has an old-fashioned locking system, levers need to be pulled, dials twisted, knobs turned back and forth. It is a closet, a room to enter and lock behind you. It is taller than a bent head, yet its sides are miles wide. In a dream hotel I have sequestered myself for safe-keeping. I have left my pants laid out neatly on a bed, shoes stuffed with newspaper gagged upon a creaking floor. Here inside the thick iron door of this lock-up, I can sleep in isolation, until time crows within my secluded heart, then my body once more is offered up to be bolted upon the cross of humanity. © 12 mins ago