Mrs Rochester

Watch through the gloom, my right sole rub
One step forward. Watch the left foot, bloodied
Trail. I turn. One step forward. Watch the left
Foot trail. Turn. Step. trail. TURN. STEP. TRAIL

My neck burns, watching rows of Ants scuttle past
leftrightleftrightleftrightleftrightleftright
Through locks of black hair draped over my face
Like a pillow – tapping the rhythm with a limp hand.
I feel like screaming. like screaming

Like scraping my nails
Along the dark, peeling wall. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ripped strands of my dress float casually in the air,
Smoke in this ashen room at dawn. The blackness
Clings like glue, my pale skin is grey – bloodshot
Eyes, black. In-between daylight and candlelight
Held captive as an eclipse, the daily sun stings like a
Dozen cuts on my back.

Among the crows, amongst

The spitting chimneys, the crumbling roof: cruel day
Distorts my cry – laughter. A flood is coming, the ants
Spill out below. Warmth, caress me, catalyse wings.
Once again I follow the beasts – reach out a hand
rightleftrightleftrightleftright. left. right –
left…

“BERTHA…”

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