Poems from Raina Masters

Vena cava

A pulse through fingers
that stagnant on a desk,
on a remote.

Bleary eyes stay open for
two straight hours of
television, to make coffee
and pile sugar cookies
on a napkin.

His voice beckons you to bed.

The sound of heat being pushed
through vents break the silence.
You can hear the pulse
in your head now.

Feel the weight of your body
slouch into your chair.
You reach into the fading minutes
and piece together what you
have been putting off.

It’s not enough.


Sort of a trend

Open eyes and find a couple
sitting on a sofa,
too lazy to eat dinner at
the dining room table that has now
become cluttered with circulars
and political mailers.
Blink, and then move into a room
with the sound of television
and heat pushing through ducts,
they sit on opposite ends with
their backs to each other.
Blink again and find them
motionless, under layers of blankets,
a wide gap separates and keeps them cold.

Raina Masters writes poems, occasionally shares them and is hoping to submit more in the future. Raina spends most of her time daydreaming about faraway places and loves music, the quiet of a walk in cold weather and the happiness a warm blanket provides.

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