The Interrupted Lady
written by: John Grey
In the dark of the hallway,
a lady in white floated
like a skein of ice.
Rain drizzled down
from the ceiling,
rolled off her silver hair,
washed away flesh
from her pale cheeks.
I went for the moment
like a wolf pouncing on its prey.
No drugs, I assure you.
This was right out of my head
She was death in the looking glass.
Life as glowing white skin.
My inspiration peeled her like an apple,
reapplied the glowing rind.
But then the doorbell rang.
She shuddered to nothingness,
never to return.
It was an old friend
with wine at the door.
We drank until dawn,
drowned sorrows
and maidens alike.
John Grey
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in That, Dunes Review, Poetry East and North Dakota Quarterly with work upcoming in Qwerty, Thin Air, Dalhousie Review and failbetter.
Latest posts by John Grey (see all)
- Long After The Argument - January 16, 2021
- Changing Man - November 15, 2020
- The Living and The Dead - August 25, 2020
