After The Wake, poetry by David Estringel at
Deea Olteanu

After The Wake

After The Wake

written by: David Estringel



There’s a
rap, rap, rapping
on my bedroom door.
The rocking chair
The ceiling fan light,
overhead, winks
in flirtatious rhythm.
Who else but me
disturbs the dust
and haunts
the cold of these walls
and hungry keyholes?
enter at the exit
(I hear)
and outstay their welcome.
I yawn
and stretch
and rub my eyes,
as if to say,
“Time to go. Party’s over,”
but they don’t listen.
Can’t say when it started.
Don’t know when it will end.
Just hoping they’re not waiting
for me to join
the fun.

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