She lives in the windy house of my head
Sleeps in a four-poster bed
I thought might please her
And she smiles for me sometimes
But still I'm uneasy
Doesn't she get lonely there all by herself?
Wouldn't she like to go out
To go shopping
Maybe look up a friend
Get her hair fixed
Get a job?
Isn't it time she had a name?
I think of her as I climb the red staircase
Wasn't she a little girl once?
When I'm not looking
And a brown light fills the room
Does she take out old photographs?
Does she take out a face and try it on?
What does she dream when the mirrors fold
When comets blaze across the bony ceiling
When petals of electricity stain the horizon
Of my closed and flickering lids?
John Garth Raubenheimer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-red-staircase/
