Vitals

The washing machine just moved my house.

One hundred year old studs

gyrate in circles

as my clothes spin,

and I am agape.

A tornado has shorn occupants

from their houses today.

Storage bins sit atop the open dollhouse

that was their life's work,

and I spin

1,042 miles per hour over Jupiter,

my brain intact, as yet,

despite the narrowing

statistical probabilities.

I am hovering

over an abyss

I cannot name

or revoke.

I am

spinning eternal

in stasis

over a vacuum

that waits-

hungry

for me.

Reviews

[~]

Wow Kristina, I am so glad I came across your page. I loved the creativity, the imagery and the beautiful way you strung these words together. Very nice meeting you!

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thank you! I appreciate you stopping by and reading. :)