Overcoming Perfection

It brought a sickening sweat.

Pungent, hot, hidden; under wraps, neglected, forgotten . . .

You can’t say it aloud! 

Verbal conscripts, uttered—no shouted—no murmured—

Ignored, muttered, mumbled, 

whips of voice, dissipating in air, assailing soil, deep it goes, deep it goes.

Mushrooms poke and protrude, sinewy flesh 

harping open spores 

drifting away from me, carrying a microscopic part of me, from dust to dust.

You poofed the dust away from the windowsill. 

That way, we said, we could watch the white wall breathe.

Slowly. 

Something you could feel: curve, concave, curve, concave.

All contrast lost. 

Breathe. Breath.

Stop!

Stomp those feet! 

Chips of white paint pour onto the floor. 

Imperfections, like stars in the night sky.

You and I are just left to stargaze. 

Dorian LaGuardia