The Lizard

I climbed the stairs, dimmed and faded
light muting edges so that I could not
see the drop beyond the steps which
echoed with the click of my black leather heels,
metronome without a piano.

Walking quickly somehow it
seemed prudent to sneak past
spaces filled with treacherous love
worse than the biting snap
of a loyal dog.

The light grew as I neared, till I
found the trap and stepped through
stubborn, static sense refusing to release me
until I cut the present free
and entered uncoiled.

It was cold, the sunshine puddle masking
rotting floor beneath the lovely carpet
weave as though the warp was
cast from molding yarn. A perfect child with
glossy hair sweeping large curves,

watching an immobile lizard the
only life a fierceness flashing from
its eyes reaching out suddenly
a hand of impossible rapidity,
swatting senseless her prey.

Perfection crumbled, the burn a spreading
stain across pouting lips the
cracking board beneath my shoe an echo of
another strike as I resolutely walk away,
the lizard is not faster than my black leather heels.

Closing door behind me, doors
marked red beyond the limits of
my sight warning never to
be opened again.