Mark Zegarelli
Mark Zegarelli


I hear Paris is beautiful

The walls here are beautiful too

Cool clay smooth and wet to the touch

Green gray and sweet

The air’s so quiet

It’s not still but it’s silent

The sun never gets in

Only bakes the outside of this compound

Or so I hear

So I imagine as I sit here

I wonder what will happen next

That makes me smile

I see the light reflected off the surface of these walls

It must be outside light

But I don’t see its source

I suppose it’s reflecting off my face

My cool sweat’s like this clay

There’s a crack in the wall and cracks in my face I guess

No less beautiful

I roll up in despair and my heart releases

What it needs to release

And I’m here again with this

And this is all I need

This is all I am

That’s the secret

I forget it sometimes and then remember again

I feel a dead core of earth in the pit of my stomach

And let that go as well

And watch it wave away

The air’s now still

The walls are still cool and inviting

We invite each other and we’re cool

The floor supports and ceiling covers me

And in my mind there’s this one thought of Paris

From here