Rooms
Under the wooden platform
At the warehouse on Front Street
Won稚 be alive much longer.
Coffee and a warm bath
Would only make her weep,
Then close her eyes forever.
I know that sound,
Paradise squeezing lungs
With bloody fingers.
Her cigarette burns a hole
In the early morning light.
I hear the cottonwoods
And smell the lazy river.
Guests are easy to come by
At these waterfront hotels.
But the weather doesn稚 please them,
Or the dented freight cars
Rolling by on life痴 big screen.
When the shade is drawn,
Rest knows where to find her.
I will burn her blankets,
Sweep up her riddle,
Hang out the vacancy sign.
July 13, 2005
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Also by William Michaelian
POETRY
Winter Poems
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
52 pages. Paper.
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Another Song I Know
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
80 pages. Paper.
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