Wednesday, August 13, 2008

In the waiting room

Babies cry, evidence would suggest,

at slight changes in atmospheric pressure,

at the tap of an insects legs on carpeting,

the rustle of a virgin's hair,

pencil shavings settling at a Montessori school,

a spore alighting on Camembert,

brown leaves dropping in a memory.


And me?

The Earth would have to crack,

Levantine mountains conflagrate,

God's angry voice boom dark...fate! 

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