Gina I, II, III

Photo by Ian Espinosa on Unsplash

Gina I

I think of you,

Locked safely in your vault.

But who keeps

You from you?

If you could unzip the membrane

And walk through

The walls of your eyes

You could be free.

Gina II

In her trick-or-treat

Outfit of gloom

She glides through the labyrinth,

Surreally taking course

With the other lives

That bump into hers

In the hallway.

She needs a broom

For sweeping

And for flying,

For weeping

And for dying

And for smashing pumpkin faces.

Gina III

This sad girl

Inspires me;

Her words raise me

From her depths.

Feeding off her carcass,

I leave enough

For the vultures

Who will say

Bad things

About her black

Dresses and

Tresses and

Eyes that

Face west always,

Eclipsed by

Voices beckoning her

To grave places.