oubliette

and there,
outside the window,
the world sits,
unchanging,
staring eyelessly -

i inside have insulated myself
from it,
blacked out the windows
pinched the switch
on the lamp. took a hammer
to each clock.

the throaty roar of the heater
hoarse from its battle
with the insipid, creeping cold -

outside the window and
up,
the great woods. sharp
black forest. a tangle of
rustling and
silence.

the eye of a frightened deer -
glassy, wet.

in my small room
the hardwood floors
are unfinished.
i cover those places with dirt
and later,
snow.

soon the outside world grows in
around me. the sun worries a hole
in the black sheets i've strung up.
the walls fray & the wood
rots. the door
falls off its hinges, hammered
repeatedly
by the wind's invisible
battering ram -

& there
i am
sitting
in the middle
of the day
or night -
naked -
a needle in one hand
thread in the other
sewing my eyelids together -