three hours after midnight

she woke up seeing sirens,
her spirit cramped and moist and
crawling like ants
flat across a sticky weathered floor, the
heat sickness of a summer night’s
shivery poison leaving sweat tracks
on citrus-scented skin:  blood
oranges and melted amber in
a single, wax-draped dream.

6 thoughts on “three hours after midnight

  1. Wow.. this was so very done!
    The first time I read, I saw the picture of a candle 🙂
    Then, reading again, a murder scene
    Then, again, and now it was someone frantically raving after waking up from a hot nightmare!

    Lovely imagery! Makes one imagine so much! And I loved that aspect of this poem!


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