God's Waiting Room
Herein the empty vessels
cavort, frenzied motion capture,
compass cracked, fly blown
dervishes robbed of direction.
Mumbling lips aflutter
with poetry deranged;
dry dock for the ancients,
amnesiac retrograde.
Inconsolable and incurable,
imaginary tasks, furniture removal,
trailing human waste
they are the cause of.
Beneath a frozen clock,
metal frames and walking sticks
lean in derelict repose,
surreal, Daliesque in structure.
The intimate stink of
bowel and bladder hangs
a cloud of doomsday,
peeling humanity's very integrity.
All the while waiting,
injury and bonus time
arthritic in progress, waiting
to be touched by the hand of God.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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