better
that these walls crawl
up or ebb, rendered,
bent, scant scent, slatted lilac
slightly lights the room
silver fracture, slivers, a
window
frosty-patterned
with wheezy echoes
slyly
dims the constancy, the
floor an unsure
smile among unknowns
dark dreams
drip up
the head-
board
a squat glass contains
trace
amounts of stasis, or
swirled sides
cascade escape
ceiling a rice
wine ripple, sip
the gist of whispers &
never
mind the resonance
memories
of mesmerizing
fluc ture
tuating struc
Eric Mohrman is a poet & freelance writer living in Orlando. A piece of his political satire recently appeared in Defenestration, & his poetry has been published in Moria, a MOPE anthology, The Furnace Review, Portland Review, previous issues of Prick of the Spindle, & other journals.
