The Transfer
Her eyes look wide and clear around
Cast there are shadows of the fog igniting night
As she sees an image on a wet neglected window pane
It holds her in contempt
Cold, damp, with sweat, shivering in fright
And nothing can save her from herself
Or the 32 fluid ounces of rain still pounding down
Outside, trying to get in is sanity
To get at her with anger in the minute
Separated in the thinnest infinity
Seen through dark matter madness
In her mind glass shatters from the past to now
Windows shake, her hands as well
Like unnerved paranoids trying to get free
Waiting for the very air to attack she sits
Like a burnt out fuse in pain
Cowering on the growling floor
Nothing but a soul can save her
Something she could never have
Or purchase at the store for currency
As the storm advances
Every rain drop must be counted
Saved for a day she can't remember
Crawling on the floor
She slithers to the window pane
Every second must be saved
Electrified and drowning in her tears
That evaporate like mist in to the void
Her mind erases every thought into the glass
Turns inside out reflecting
Enveloped by fear the rain remains
When the door bell rings
Nothing will be the same
12/15/14 entry for Carol Eastman's "Best of 2014" - Poetry Contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
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