entrance to distance

Swept in the madness of her mother’s white dress,
she sat straight near the edge of her original bed
facing another empty doorway
and behind that,
the staircase where skeletons give chase.
Long naked hair hung like a canopy of vine and blossom,
married to the moonlight of an ancient Chinese garden.
She saw no reflection in gold leaf mirrors
except the undeniable brightness of midnight
which may persist for hours within one moment.
No longer wishing for love,
she released her aching muscles—
and she laid back in a slumber
of golden orange shadow
and violet ember.

written on 05/30/2010 by: Matt Kane