七.

Ivory Room

head-pounds, heart-thumps
sour streams of adrenaline
seep through my composure,
shoes fingers skirts trembling

sharp breaths and worries --
lack of depth and focus
not that part of the song;
never that part of the song

black everything
even the calm ivory arches
chiseled by quiet architects
sweat in trepidation

broken plaster and soft
rotted wood window frames
close their eyes and that scalding
water of disappointment pervades

the ivory room
that stumbling me doesn't
belong and what i await
isn't meant for me to have