Pretending to be Asleep

27Nov09

The wooden floor is hard against my head. Colored lights
crawl across the wall warping in the cob-webbed corners.
In the next room ending credits play. The babysitter opens
the screen door. I hear my mother’s voice but not
what she says. I’m pretending to be asleep.

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Filed under: Past, Poetry, Reality   |  Leave a Comment
Tags: babysitter, blastedgoat, Past, poem, work in progress