Irene

Ironically, the walls were yellow.
As the days passed, the unbroken flat color
Forced its way into my retinas
Until I saw even the nurses
Through a film of gold.

As I lay in the stillness
I felt my soul dig slowly through my body
Starting at the base of my spine and gently
Burrowing up my throat.
My soul was a lump of gold.

I could barely discern
Whether I was living in the real world
Or if I had left my being
Deep under the soft earth.
Miners will find me when they search for gold.

I am surrounded by a cocoon of silence.
I feel the brush of clothes against my skin
And the dry hum of a mass of tongues
Vibrating, Rattling
But I am afraid to reach out. They will turn to gold.