Preoccupied
I am preoccupied with corridors,
Sci-fi canyons with automatic doors,
Leading to spaces of silence
Wherein the one who bore me lies.
The TV fills a visual frame,
Yet the sound is never on,
24 hrs a day, mute dramas and
Bulletins lip synch to nothing,
Whilst, like a profane flag
The graphic observation chart
Hangs statically at the foot of the bed.
Sometimes I follow the lines,
Blue, yellow and red.
Sometimes they lead to solid walls.
The red one, though, umbilicus
Always leads back to something of her.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006
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