Catharsis
by Beverly V. Head


It has come to this now.
The dust collecting in the corners of my windows
has scattered over the cracked sill.
But I cannot read the new pattern.
I can see the foot of my bed and
I can hear the noise of my voice.
But in the back of my mind,
the cobwebs keep forming and
the Pepsi and Coke commercials keep playing
and the dust in my window
has changed to a different pattern.






Copyright 2020 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.