Speakeasy

These things we say

quiet enough that the world has to lean in to hear us

half out of a fever dream

carved into stone

or scratched out on a page already burning

they litter the floor with ash

As we shelter in place behind the walls of new-wave speakeasies

we sway dangerously in time

to music only we can hear

casting spells at sunset

the light trickling through stained glass windows

blood on white chapel walls

pooling where we walk among a congregation of heads bowed

and eyes that for some reason never leave the polished floor 

Photo by mentatdgt from Pexels

2 thoughts on “Speakeasy”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s