RITES OF PASSAGE

RITES OF PASSAGE

in the front parlor
on heavy purple
worn and bare
he sat
legs dangling
in the air
silent cries in dresses
sequenced black
passing by
wooden floors
that cracked
cigars and pin stripe
whispering in the back
blue chiffon and organza
in a mist sickening red
empty stomachs
stale coffee on the breath….
the touch of death.