Atlantis

My class was learning about prose poetry and we were asked to add a different form to our prose poem. Well, I knew I wanted to not have any periods, and in a way the sentences blend together and create this great rhythmic quality which I am pleased with. I wanted it to be a description of something, so this was what was fresh in my mind at the time of when I had my first ever meeting with one of the guys I had dated. I'd never seen a room like his, and to be frankly honest, I wouldn't want to again. Makes for a good poem though, hahaha.

One tipsy night I went into your room it smelled musty and foul ashes eroded into the carpet ignored week old cups soaked into the wood like bushes lining a path I laid on your naked bed where a blizzard of dandruff already rested the last time you washed your pillows remains a lost mystery like Atlantis sentenced to the dark abyss to me and you of this I know hoping I wouldn't be too far to be saved should I become ensnared in the clinging weed of carpet the open window and fans spun round and round swirling putrid smells dancing in my nostrils not relieving me of it I gulped the scent in of the latest perfume drowning as I sank deeper and deeper the light flickered your room was dim and I was glad for this I did not desire to see what vile creatures may have been condemned to beneath your bed let alone the back of your littered desk of this I know the TV blared in its ignorant nostalgia of cartoons from my forgotten youth I crept gently across the damp floor an explorer in an undiscovered wreck I thought Atlantis would be more grand than this even in all its ruin the clouds crept in fogging my vision not safe to go any farther or to stay in my dazed happiness of this I know and like abandoned dreams and wasted lullabies I camped for the night.


copyright Christine Locke