Tracking

I'm dancing 'round your walls
shooting you dirty looks
through the cracks in the plaster
at your holy insecurities restrained

In that web of my head
who is the spider's enemy
tracking mud through the pristine halls
and tangling up memory's timeline?

We've come full round and you still
bear the burden of his frown upon
your head, it's coffee stain smirk
of disapproving disappointment permanent

Tracking you through fields outside of Tulsa
I meet a boy with the voice of my grandfather
"Nothing and no one will peel back
those exposed pieces of flesh, not now," he tells me

He says I'm clever as he straps me in
"Provide us with the answers," he whispers,
"for the snakes will be here momentarily."
and the faint and distant lights go out.

(copyright 2007 - Sheila Lynne)