Nocturne Poem by Alexa Lee

Can you hear it?
Dying flicker of the day, smoke curling gently from singed ends.
Paisley whorls, pale blue, grey, eggshell. A wooden duck peers downward into nothingness.
The storm approaches, full frontal, steady arm sweeping
tablecloth clean of remains.
Hesitant hands etch delicate words on virtual page, soft thighs gripping
lovers imaginary or otherwise. Rumbling, edging in: the rain,
relentless as the sea.

Desdemona prowls the halls tonight. She's in my bones,
negotiates the crackling kneejoints,
synovial muse of the sleepless. Not so different, the fingers and toes;
interlaced, simian, necessary. Sienna was your shade.
Citrus-halves impaled on white prongs, too many cigarettes,
not enough wine.
Dusty surfaces speak
of better hours.