Mobile

Lying in bed, the ceiling swims

above me, a mobile of stains

and stardust. It's a worm's eye

view like an infant in a crib.

Shake out my pockets;

everything's gone. The tooth-

fairy's a hood ornament, Santa

Claus is dead, childhood's a

brass coin, Batman; a canvas

character. Holden Caufield is

the hero of my time,

my broken alarm clock.

Skeletons rattle my cage sick

of the closet. The black hand

of the Sabbath is at my door,

"Come out, come out whoever

you are". My mommy dresses

me just like daddy-

a study in tyranny.

My waking dream never ends.

I see fireflies now, they hover

over my dinner. This is where my

story ends on the dotted line

with a broken quill.

A mobile of stains and stardust.