Tennessee Williams

i made you some kind of treasure
perfect jewel in electric setting

i thought of your voice
the crackling phone lines
could not diminish its sweetness

i looked at my hands
my ragged nails
not worthy of touching you

i looked at my hands
clenched into fists
not wanting to touch you

i thought of your voice
and a note scrawled on my door
i may as well be deaf

i made you some kind of poison
venom seeping into my chest

i made you a figurehead
a menagerie of ghosts

you had no input into this

innocent bystander
my wellspring of illusion


April 2, 1996
© Lela Kaunitz